Homecoming
by Techno Dawn
Summary: For four years, Donatello was cruelly imprisoned by a mysterious figure claiming to be the new Shredder. His family believed him dead until the day that he reappeared at their door. Now that the turtles are reunited, they must find a way to help their traumatized brother heal, and to prevent this unknown villain from seizing power over the Foot.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own TMNT. If I did, this would not qualify as fanfiction. It would be actual fiction.**

Behind the wheel of the hauler, Donatello stretched and yawned for the fifth time in as many minutes. One of these days he was going to have to install a coffee maker in this thing.

"I saw that," Leonardo said, sternly. "Did you sneak out of bed again last night?"

"No, Leo, I stayed exactly where you so kindly deposited me. I just didn't sleep much."

"Donnie, you've gotta stop obsessing over that signal," Raphael growled.

"Alleged signal," Michelangelo interjected, one finger in the air.

"Alleged signal," Leo agreed. "Stop driving yourself crazy over nothing, Donnie."

"Nothing!" Donnie huffed in disbelief as he hit a button on the control panel. The main display screen filled with a pulsating static. "This isn't nothing!"

"Looks like nothing to me," Raph said.

"That's the very definition of nothing, Bro" Mikey confirmed as he turned away dismissively and returned to fiddling with his nunchucks.

"It's not nothing!" Donnie chuckled good-naturedly.

"Don, you're so tired you're using double negatives. You've been trying to wrap your head around this for weeks. Let it go, already!" Leo laughed.

Donnie rubbed his chin and shook his head as he stared at the screen. "It's something, then. It's got to be something."

"No it doesn't," Raphael said as he closed the display.

"Hey!" Donnie protested. "I was watching that."

"Not anymore," Raph stated, finally.

"Yeah, Don, that was almost as boring as those science shows you insist on watching," Mikey whined. "Raph, can you put on something with giant robots. Oh! Or explosions!"

"Enough already," Leonardo said. "This is a stakeout, remember. The only thing we're supposed to be watching is that warehouse."

"Donnie's static was more exciting. Can we go back to watching that?"

"No, Mikey. Everyone keep your eyes peeled for signs of gang activity."

"Eyes peeled - what a gross expression," Michelangelo said with an exaggerated shudder. Raph shook his fist menacingly in response.

Everyone returned to watching their assigned entrances, but Leonardo soon noticed that Donnie seemed to be gazing right through his. He knew what that look on his genius brother's face meant. "Stop thinking about it," Leo teased.

Donnie turned to his brother and smiled. "No can do, boss. I'm in too deep."

"So what are you thinking?" Leo asked as he leaned back in his seat and put his arms behind his head.

"It's some sort of transmission, for sure. There's a definite pattern. I just can't figure out who is sending it or where it's coming from. Whatever it is, it's bouncing off of every cell phone tower and satellite dish in town. It's making triangulation impossible."

"Are you thinking that it's alien, or terrestrial in origin?"

"Well, the interference pattern would imply-"

"Guys, we've got activity in the western garage bay," Mikey cut in.

"Finally!" Raph said as he spun his sais.

Donnie activated the exterior camera and panned in. A nondescript van had parked near the far side of the building and a shadowy figure had leapt out and opened the garage bay. The van pulled into the garage, and the bay door closed again. It was impossible to say how many people were in the van, or what it was transporting.

Leo rose from his seat. "Raph and I will get in closer, try to see what's going on. Don and Mike - you guys monitor the situation from here for now. We'll call you in if we need you." With that, Leo and Raphael rushed out of the hauler, silently racing each other towards the garage. Don flipped a switch and activated the parabolic dish, tracking his brothers with it.

Raphael and Leo made it to the garage bay, leaning on opposite sides of the door. Raph carefully examined the door then crouched down and held his hands together, beckoning Leo over with a flick of his head. Leo took the invitation and crept over to his brother, planting a foot in his hand and allowing Raphael to lift him. A small hole was corroded through the metal allowing Leo to peek inside.

"They're unloading a bunch of black plastic cases from the van. Must be heavy. They take two guys to lift."

"Oh, well that narrows it down," Mikey muttered. Donnie shushed him, trying to focus on the transmission.

"Is there any writing on the cases? Do they all look the same?" Raph asked in a harsh murmur.

"Not that I can see. They're loading them into a cargo container. Looks like a lot of identical cases are already inside."

"The cargo container is gray with a white star set in a blue box. I can't make out all of the writing, but it looks like it starts with an M."

"Probably Maersk," Donnie whispered to Mikey. "That's a likely dead end. They're one of the largest shipping companies in the world. Their cargo containers are all over the place."

"As always, you are a bottomless well of unneeded information, Donatello," Mikey grinned as he grew bored and returned to fiddling with his nunchucks.

"Enough out of you," Donnie said as he returned the smile. "And quit messing around, we're supposed to be providing backup support."

"You're doing a fine job of that on your own. Besides, that little tidbit about shipping containers is sure to crack this case wide open."

Donnie swatted at the air dismissively as he returned to watching his brothers. Leo seemed to perk up all at once.

"They're opening one of the boxes!"

Mikey hit the transmit button on his headset. "Leo, try and see if you can figure out who manufactured the box. Don's dying to know!"

"Huh?" Leo whispered.

Raph's gruff voice cracked across the speaker, "Don, since I'm not there I need you to whack Mikey upside the head for me."

Donnie rose and rubbed his hands together threateningly, grinning maliciously as he moved in on Mikey. The lighthearted moment was interrupted by Leo's frantic voice. "Weapons! It's weapons! Maybe some sort of grenade launchers"

"A whole shipping container full?" Don called in alarm as he spun on his heels.

"At least," Leo said. I think there's more containers in there."

"Switch places," Raphael said as he lowered Leo back to the ground.

Raphael confirmed everything that Leonardo had just observed, which meant that it was time to regroup. The four brothers reunited and crouched behind a cluster of dumpsters located near the warehouse's main bay of loading docks.

"So, what's it gonna be, Fearless? Do we fight'em, or do we track'em?"

"Guessing I know which one has your vote, Raph," Leo said with a grin.

"Shell yeah. It's been too quiet around here lately."

"Well I'm on team track'em," Donnie yawned. "I know it looks bad, but we don't even know who these guys are yet."

"You just want to go the safe route because you're sorely lacking in beauty sleep these days, Don." Mikey interjected as Donnie rolled his eyes. "Besides, grenade launchers, mysterious evil-doers, a creepy warehouse - sounds like the start of a fun Saturday night."

Everyone turned to Leo. "Don's right that we shouldn't go into this half-cocked."

"Awwwww," Mikey moaned.

"Hear me out," Leo continued. "On the flip side, we can't just sit back and do nothing if this is an arms transfer. That's just not our style. Besides, we all know that if we leave Raph will just sneak back here later tonight anyway, right?"

"You know me so well."

Knowing that he was outnumbered, Donatello was already busying himself downloading the building's blueprints and ownership information. He didn't really mind, though. Such was the life of the family pacifist.

"Why don't we return to the hauler and continue surveillance. And Raph, I know you wanted to check this place out because of the recent increase in trouble on this block, but now that we know something is definitely going on, I'd like a more detailed rundown of what exactly you've observed out here the past few weeks."

"Sure thing, Fearless."

Just as the brothers were turning to leave, a tractor trailer turned in and headed straight for the loading docks. "Quick, into the dumpsters!" Leo commanded. He leapt into the nearest one, and was followed immediately by Raphael.

"No, not the dumpsters," Mikey whined. A rattling behind them signified that someone was opening the loading dock door. Donnie grabbed Mikey by the wrist and pulled him into a second dumpster, the lid closing just as the loading dock door opened.

"Mikey, did you see the license plate number on the truck?"

"Sure, it was FTN4643."

"New York?"

"New Jersey," Mikey said in a mockingly terrified tone. Donnie could barely see him wiggling his fingers in the air through the darkness that enveloped them.

"Knock it off with your New Jersey prejudice. It's a beautiful state. The meadowlands are pretty cool, and did you know that the world's largest water tower is located in New Jersey? Supposedly you can see it from the Empire State Building!"

Mikey stared at Donatello dumbly. "Fascinating. Now back to the ARMS TRANSFER that's going on directly behind us at this very minute!"

"Shhh, shhh, don't yell! I'm running a query on the truck now. It just takes a little longer since it's after dark and the DMV is closed."

"So help me, Don, if you start spouting off more Jersey facts I'm getting into the other dumpster, arms dealers or no."

"That won't be necessary. The truck is registered to Peterman Transit Services out of Hoboken. Can you text the others while I look into them?"

"Sure, but you should know that I'm sitting on something that's a disturbing combination of spiky and squishy over here."

"Duly noted." Donatello didn't glance up as his fingers continued to fly across his phone.

In the other dumpster, Raphael and Leonardo were jockeying for position when the text from Mikey arrived. Leonardo used his feet to ward off Raph as he read the text aloud. "The truck is from Peterman Transit," Leo read.

Raphael pushed down his brother's head mid-sentence and attempted to use the resulting gap to slide behind him. Something smelled on the other side of the dumpster, and the two most competitive brothers were bound and determined to push each other into it. Naturally, Leonardo occasionally stopped to pull rank and claim that they were being too loud, only to resume the wrestling match immediately thereafter. Leo was playing dirty and Raph wasn't going to put up with it.

The phone pinged again. "Donnie says that they're a small upstart company. Only been in business a year. Could be something there." Leo dodged a piece of debris headed for his temple. "Okay that's enough clowning around. If Mikey and Don are the research dumpster, we need to be the observation dumpster. What do you see?"

"You're just trying to flush me from my position. Why don't you tell me what you see?" Raphael countered.

"Fine," Leo said pointedly as he moved to the lid and cracked it open a quarter inch. "The truck is docked. Sounds like they're loading it. I can't see if anyone is in the cab."

"Let's just get down to business," Raphael grumbled. "One of us should try to get back to the hauler and continue full surveillance. Then we can just feed the info to the others. We're probably just hanging around in these dumpsters for nothing." The phones pinged again.

"Warehouse blueprints and other building info from Don," Leo said. "He and I can stay here and sort through this while you make for the hauler. We'll ask Mikey to watch your back. Just be careful."

"Aren't I always?" Raph said as he texted the plan to the others. Once he received the all clear from Mikey, he slid out of the dumpster with the liquid smoothness of a cat. Silently hurrying to the nearest wall, he then disappeared into the shadows.

"That was so cool," Mikey said. "I wonder if I look that good doing that?"

"You are a sight to behold, Mikey," Don said, his eyes remaining trained on his phone. "The building owners seem clean, but the current leaseholders look a bit shady. I wonder…"

A loud bang arose from inside the building. Mikey had inadvertently began turning his attention to Don as he spoke, and snapped his eyes back to where he last saw Raphael. Raph was fine, but appeared to have frozen in his tracks. Don and Leo quickly gave up their research and joined Michelangelo in keeping vigil over Raph. With the dumpster lids cracked open, they were able to whisper to one another.

"What happened, Michelangelo?" Leo hissed.

"Nothing! I don't know. It was just a bang. Was it a gunshot? It sounded like a gunshot!" Mikey's words and sentences blended together in his panic.

Donnie put his arm around Mikey's shoulders to calm his brother's rapidly fraying nerves. "It's okay. Raph is fine. He's just being cautious."

"He must see something we don't. Why else would he have stopped moving?" Leo added.

"I don't know, but I'm heading to the corner." Mikey said. "I'm supposed to have his back." Without leaving room for argument, Mikey immediately slipped out from Don's arm and followed the path Raphael had taken. It was a few hundred feet from the loading bay to the corner of the building, and another hundred feet or so to where Raph was crouching, partially hidden by a bollard. Mikey peered around the corner of the building, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He caught Raph's eye and shrugged his shoulders. Raph returned the gesture. Mikey turned and gave Don and Leo the a-okay sign.

There was another loud bang. This one close enough that Mikey slunk down and covered his ears. Yelling was coming from inside the building, and it sounded like a lot more people than they had anticipated were inside. The sound of multiple engines starting echoed from the garage area.

Raph stayed in place, but repeated the shrugging gesture. Mikey looked at Leo with panic. That last bang had sounded unmistakably like a gunshot, and the yelling seemed to be increasing. Leo hopped out of the dumpster and ran off to join Mikey. Donnie rose to follow but Leo waved him back down as he passed.

As Leo reached Mikey, a third shot rang out. Leo maintained his cool and put a hand on Mikey's shell. "You go back and wait with Donnie, he said in a hoarse whisper. I'm going to meet up with Raph and we'll get to the hauler. Once you see the hauler moving, you and Don make a break for it and meet us at the South Gate. This is getting too heated for my liking. Once we're moving we'll call 911 to report the gunshots and leave all of this to them."

"Okay," Mikey said with a shiver. "We really ought to just call 911 more often."

Leo took off in a low trot towards Raphael, and Michelangelo turned back towards the loading dock. He hadn't made it more than a couple of steps before the entire loading bay area exploded in front of him. The docked tractor trailer was thrust forwards and quickly set ablaze, its contents spilling out and pummeling the nearby dumpsters where Donnie had been hiding. Its payload must have included some sort of flammable liquids, because it only took seconds for everything to be fully engulfed in flames.

"Donnie!" Mikey shrieked, frozen in place as Leonardo dashed by him. Leo was covering his face with the inside of his arm as he ran, as though it could protect him from the heat and smoke that was rolling off of the rapidly building fire.

Five-foot-high flames were bursting out of the dumpsters when Raphael crashed onto the scene in the hauler. Leonardo was still trying desperately to find a path towards where he had last seen his brother. "Donnie was still in the dumpster!" he yelled, his voice breaking. Raphael processed this for a second. There was no way to make it to the dumpsters on foot, and the whole area was quickly being obscured by smoke. Raph did the only thing that he could think to do, and charged the hauler directly into the dumpsters, sending their flaming contents spilling to the ground. He made a quick visual scan on the debris, but saw no sign of his brother. He then quickly reversed, out of fear that the hauler was about to catch fire as well.

"Into the hauler!" Leonardo yelled to Mikey. "We'll scan for any signs of Donnie from inside."

Mikey didn't need to be told twice. They were sitting ducks out here. There was too much smoke to see Donnie, and the fire department would be here any moment. They couldn't risk being seen by anyone, and the hauler offered the best odds of searching out Donnie while also hiding them from sight.

Since Raphael was behind the wheel and Leo was choking on smoke from his attempted rescue, Michelangelo took the seat usually reserved for Don and brought up the shell cell GPS signals. A satellite image appeared on the main screen. The blue, red and orange dots were together, with the purple dot nearby. It showed Donnie exactly where they had left him, next to the now-destroyed loading bay. Mikey toggled through more controls. The infrared was useless due to the fire. He switched on the area-audio scan, but there were no sounds coming from the warehouse anymore, aside from the creaking of structural supports beginning to react to the heat.

Raph turned to his brothers. "I'm gonna drive us back to the dumpsters and we'll spray the area down as best we can with the fire suppressant foam. We have to act fast, though. Those flames are gonna spring back in no time." Raph didn't wait for feedback before taking off. Leo leapt to the control for the suppressing agents and disbursed the chemicals as best he could. Still no sign of Donnie. The wail of a fire engine could be heard in the distance.

"He's not here!" Leo shouted. "We've got to go!"

Raphael glared back. "We're not leaving a brother behind!" he growled.

"He isn't here. He must have made it out before the explosion."

"But his phone signal!" Mikey cried. "Donnie never would've left his phone behind."

"Guys, he's not here or we would've found each other by now. Regardless, he wouldn't have survived this long in the heat and smoke. We've got to go before someone catches us here."

He hated it, but in Raph's heart he knew Leonardo was right. If Donnie was here, there was no way that he had survived. Furthermore, Donnie would never forgive them for getting themselves captured on his account. Raphael hit the gas and pulled out, heading towards the opposite end of the building. As the hauler began to move, Mikey did the simplest thing he could think of and called Donnie's cell. He knew that the GPS said that the phone was nearby. Maybe they'd hear it ring. Maybe Donnie would even pick up and tell them where he was hiding!

The call never went through. All Mikey heard was static. Even in his desperation, he noticed something familiar. This wasn't ordinary static. Something was pulsating behind it. He realized in horror that it was the signal - The same one that Donnie had been fixated on these past few days. The one that everyone had tried to convince him was nothing.

As they debated their next move, all three brothers were overcome by the same thought, although none of them dared to voice it. They were never going to see Donatello again.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own TMNT. I'm writing this for fun, not profit!**

Hidden deep in the sewers, his family mourned, but Donatello was still very much alive. He hadn't been in the fire. Not a single scale was singed. In fact, he didn't even know that there _had been_ a fire.

Donatello had been ready to join his brothers when Leonardo waved him down. Trusting Leo instinctively, Donnie dropped back to his knees. He had intended to keep the dumpster lid a crack open, so that he could keep an eye on everyone. However, the lid somehow slammed shut. Thinking nothing of it at first, Donatello attempted to push the lid back up. It didn't budge. Assuming it to be a fluke, he pushed again to no avail. Fear began to set in, but Don didn't want to call out just yet. His brothers didn't need a distraction right now. Besides, Donnie would never hear the end of it if they had to fish him out of a dumpster.

Don fumbled for his phone and found the flashlight toggle. He ran the beam along the bottom of the lid and discovered what appeared to be a magnetic seal. Soon he located a matching one on the other side. How had he missed that? _Stupid!_

What was strange was that the lid hadn't locked before. Why now? Don looked closer and saw wires connected to the magnets. They must have been electromagnets activated by a remote trigger. That would explain why they were so powerful. Realizing he was in over his head, Don cried out for help. Turtle luck ran true to form, though, and the third shot rang out simultaneously, drowning out his cry.

Ice ran through Don's veins. Had one of his brothers been shot? Frightened to call out again and draw attention to the area, he scrolled through his phone controls with the intent to log into the hauler's cameras remotely. He almost dropped the phone in shock. Static! Not just static, but the signal!

Unbeknownst to Don, the static fizzle was hiding something else. It took a moment for him to pick up on the hiss of gas that had begun seeping into the dumpster. It filled the confined space quickly, and Don didn't notice until it was too late. He was already mute and going numb. Why hadn't he checked the dumpster's contents? _Stupid_ , _stupid_ , _stupid!_

Don drifted away, deeply unconscious and dead to the world. He never felt the dumpster lid unlock. He never felt himself being removed and carried to the other side of the warehouse just prior to the explosion. Donatello didn't wake at all until he was already deep underground, somewhere across town, locked in a cell that would soon become the closest thing that he had to a home.

Donatello's senses slowly returned to him, as if finding their way home through a dark and foggy night. Once he figured out which way was up, he realized that he was hanging by chains shackled to his wrists, spreading his arms and pulling them taunt. Chains were also secured to his ankles, keeping him securely affixed to the wall and unable to move in any direction. There was a collar of some sort encircling his neck. This wasn't good. Don lifted his head to look around, ignoring the throbbing that was undoubtedly an after-effect of the knock-out gas.

He was in some sort of prison cell, chained to a cement wall with a small, grated drainage channel running below it. The other three walls were thick, and composed of a clear material, possibly lucite. There was no bed or any other furniture or adornment, and the room was surprisingly well lit, for a prison cell. Two guards were posted on the exterior of each wall that he could see, each keeping a close eye on him. The guards wore clothing reminiscent of Foot ninjas, but the details weren't the same. The color was lighter, and the logo was missing. Very strange.

The cell itself seemed to be located in the corner of a larger room. The only exit from the main room that Don could make out from his vantage point was a locked steel door. Between the shackles, the cell, the guards, and the prison itself, it was quite clear that his captors really didn't want him going anywhere. It looked like he was in for a long stay.

Now that he was fully conscious, Don expected something to happen. He'd been kidnapped before, and it usually didn't take long for the bad guy to make an appearance and begin leveling threats or making demands. Given that he was pinned to the wall like a butterfly decorating a display case, he had to assume that someone would be coming for him soon. Don mentally prepared himself for the worst.

Funny thing though, no one came. A full day passed, give or take a few hours, and Donatello still dangled helplessly from the chains. He'd tried his hardest to loosen the manacles, but he'd only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw. Even if he'd managed to free an arm or two, he knew he wouldn't have made it out of the cell or past the guards. He was cold, hungry, scared and exhausted. At least he wasn't thirsty any longer. He'd been sprayed down with icy cold water a while ago, and had managed to drink a little. Donnie rolled his neck to try to relieve some of the stress in his screaming shoulder muscles. He let his chin rest on his plastron and closed his eyes, knowing full well that sleep was never going to come. He felt the guard's eyes on him at all times. It was awful feeling so exposed after a lifetime of living in the shadows.

There was a rustling near the door, and muffled words were exchanged. Donnie lifted his head to see a figure being escorted into his cell. It was - Shredder? But that couldn't be. Shredder was in exile. Donnie had watched his forced exodus with his own eyes. There was no way that he could have made it back to earth. The Utrom had him heavily guarded. There was just _no way_.

"Who are you?" Don's voice sounded rustier than he had anticipated. He cleared his throat and awaited an answer.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm the Shredder," the newcomer sneered.

"You don't look like him, and you sure as heck don't sound like him," Donnie pointed out. As was the case with the slightly different Foot soldiers, this version of the Shredder was not quite the same as the original. There were subtle variations in the armor, in his build and in his stature. His voice had a barely discernable Asian accent that Donatello couldn't quite place.

"You feel that you are in a position to doubt me, reptile?" Shredder asked as he ran a blade slowly along Donatello's plastron, hard enough that he could feel it, but too soft to cause any actual damage.

"You don't scare me, _Shredder_ ," Don said mockingly. He tried to sound defiant, hoping that none of the fear he was truly feeling seeped into his voice. "If you are who you say you are, you should know that you don't stand a chance against my brothers."

"Big talk, considering that you're chained to my wall. Trust me, I could have any or all of your brothers just as easily. Luckily, I don't have any use for them, yet," Shredder growled menacingly.

Internally, Don breathed a massive sigh of relief. This guy just admitted that his brothers were free. Ever since his capture, Don's worst fear was that his brothers were also imprisoned. If they were free, they would inevitably come for him. "Are you saying that you singled me out? Why?"

"Simple, I know that you're the brains of your little operation, Donatello, and I'm in need of a mind like yours. Believe it or not, you're going to help me."

Donatello gave a forced chuckle. "I think that you'd better re-check your magic eight ball."

"That feisty attitude of yours isn't going to last too long down here, you insolent freak," the fake Shredder warned.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Donatello chided.

"Don't think for a minute that I don't see right through your little facade, turtle. I'm sure that _things_ like you have to develop a sense of humor in order to survive. And those little jibes of yours are clearly just bravado, designed to make you feel strong when by now it ought to be clear just how very weak you really are. So, you can make all the sarcastic little comments you want. There's no one here to impress."

Don considered his responses. About a hundred snide comebacks came to mind, but those clearly wouldn't be getting him anywhere. Not only that, but he wanted answers. "So, what is it that you expect me to help you with?"

The fake Shredder took a step back and crossed his arms. "It's come to my attention that you were the driving force behind the downfall of my predecessor. Specifically, it was you who destroyed his ship, securing his capture."

"You're speaking of Ch'rell?"

"Naturally."

"So, to be clear, you're taking over as Shredder, now that he's out of the way, so to speak?"

"Yes. I'm sure that you know by now that the Shredder is a symbol, a mantle of sorts. Now that Ch'rell is gone, that mantle is mine."

"Does that mean you're leading the Foot? What does Karai have to say about that?"

At that, the 'Shredder' bent an elbow and thrust it out with the full force of his weight, connecting with the inner portion of Donnie's upper right knee. The leg was chained too tightly to give at all, and Donnie felt his knee rip out of its socket. He bit his lip to keep from screaming as the Shredder popped up again and gave the knee a finishing kick. Something tore. He then reached up and grabbed Donnie by the chin, looking him straight in the eyes. "Hear me, turtle. That's the last time that you will ever speak that name to me! My motives and the inner workings of the Foot are none of your concern."

Donnie loosened his jaw enough to choke out a few choice words. "Why would I ever help you?!" He wanted to say more, but the hand around his throat combined with the pain radiating from his knee was too much. If he kept speaking, he was going to lose his composure, and he couldn't let this guy see him suffering.

"I'm fully aware that you won't be joining me willingly. Fortunately, I'm a patient man and I'm in this for the long haul. Next time we speak, I trust that I will find you to be much more agreeable." The Shredder then turned on his heels and left.

Alone again and in a considerable amount of pain, Donnie now had nothing to do but continue to hang there, gasping for breath and struggling to maintain consciousness. He ignored the glares and whispers of the guards. Don didn't particularly regret mouthing off, but it sure did stink that he couldn't do anything about his knee. His natural urge was to clutch the injured limb, but he couldn't move at all. All he could do was try to distract himself by attempting to figure out what the shell was going on.

 **Thanks to everyone who followed, reviewed and favorited!**


	3. Chapter 3

April trudged through the sewers, both anticipating and dreading her arrival at the lair. She hoped that she would find things better than she had left them, but she suspected that they had only gotten worse.

The turtles had called her from a pay phone on the night they lost Donatello. She had almost ignored the call from an unknown number, but something told her to pick up. When she did, they all began speaking at once. Their voices were rough with fear and panic, and the things they were saying didn't make any sense. There was a fire, or an explosion, maybe both. Donnie was dead, or maybe just disappeared. They had to leave. They shouldn't have left. None of their phones were working. Something about a signal.

All of the craziness they had gone through together and she had never heard the turtles behave like this. It was a small wonder that they even had the presence of mind to find one of the last pay phones in the city, although really if they were thinking clearly they would've just come to pick her up instead. Eventually they calmed down enough to tell her where they were so she could meet them.

She found them a few blocks away from the warehouse, which was now fully engulfed in flames. Sirens wailed and news helicopters circled overhead. It was Raphael who told her the full story of what had happened. Leonardo was beside himself with guilt and grief, and Michelangelo was trying in vain to comfort him. April did her best to keep a level head, to help console the brothers, and to come up with a plan. Clearly, Leo had no choice but to leave the area where the warehouse burned. There was nowhere they could have hidden given the emergency response, the massive crowd of onlookers, and news crews. Now, however, he was second guessing everything.

At Leo's behest, April called Casey and the two of them went to stand in the crowd of gawkers. They pretended to be transfixed by the flaming building, but really, they were looking for any sign of Donatello, alive or dead. Sadly, they were unsuccessful. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo, meanwhile, had canvassed the area searching for clues and checking possible hiding spots. When dawn finally rolled around, the fire was reduced to mere embers, and April and Casey forced the turtles to return to the Lair. She suspected that they'd been avoiding speaking to Splinter, but it had to happen sooner or later. From what April could tell, there was no hope of Donatello's survival. Her heart broke for Donnie, for her mutant family, and for herself.

It had been a few days now, and April found the lair door closed, but unlocked, as though her friends weren't even trying to protect themselves anymore. She took in the scene before her. The turtles were all in separate corners of the room, not speaking and not looking at eachother. It appeared that they hadn't slept in days. Splinter was sitting with Michelangelo on the couch, his fur matted and his eyes distant.

"Here you go, Raph," April said as a greeting. "Try not to break this one. These things are costing me $400 a whack." There was a desperate, false cheer in her voice.

A bedraggled looking Raphael took the new cell phone that she offered between two fingertips as though it was a piece of roadkill, which in all likelihood, it soon would be. "Sorry April. These things are just too delicate for my taste, and half the time they don't even know that my fingers are fingers. That's why Donnie-"

Everyone snapped their necks around at the mention of Donatello. Raphael realized he may as well have stepped on a landmine.

"Yes, that's why Donnie engineered the shell cells the way he did. We know," Leo spat. "But Donnie's gone and the shell cells are fried so this is what we have to work with now. Even Mikey can handle these, Raph! It's not that difficult!"

"I don't much care for being used as a measuring stick for failure, Leonardo," Mikey shot. "And Raph is just as strung out as the rest of us right now, so why don't you just back off!"

April blanched. She had seen this coming. They were all stressed out, mourning their loss, and trapped underground. It was only natural that they would be at eachother's throats. That didn't make it any easier to watch, particularly because it was Donnie who was usually best at ironing these things out.

"Uh, Thanks, Mikey," Raph mumbled, surprised that Michelangelo had just jumped to his defense. "So anyways, April, any progress in figuring out what fried our shell cells?"

April sighed heavily. Like the rest of them, she hadn't been getting much sleep. "A little bit," she began. "You see, Donnie used frequency hopping technology for all of your communications. It made it almost impossible for anyone to hack your network or trace your movements. All of your phones and other communication devices were programed to switch from one broadcasting channel to the next simultaneously, using an algorithm that he had programmed into each of them."

"While I don't understand any of what you just said, it does sound like something Donnie would do," Mikey said sadly.

"Yes, well this signal that he had been trying to make sense of, I think that it was someone's attempt to access your network. I don't know how they did it, but it looks to me like the night of the explosion they finally managed to figure out what frequency you were broadcasting on at that particular moment, and block your communications."

"That explains why my call to Donnie wouldn't go through," Mikey observed.

"Your call didn't go through because his phone had melted, shellhead," Leonardo growled.

"But I heard that static! I'm telling you!" Michelangelo defended.

"Whatever!" Raphael roared. "It doesn't matter right now. Let April finish."

April nodded her thanks to Raphael. "I can't be sure, but I think that once they were in, they were able to upload some sort of virus. That virus then corrupted Donnie's programming, thereby frying all of your phones."

"Well, can you fix them?" Leo asked.

"I'm afraid not, Leonardo. All of Donnie's coding is useless now. I'd have to rebuild the operating system from the ground up. It would take me years to produce anything approaching what you had before. I'm sorry but you'll just have to use regular cell phones, at least for now."

"But these things don't even work underground," Mikey complained. "And like Raph pointed out, they don't always recognize our reptilian skin so half the time we can't do anything with them."

April rubbed her eyes. "Nothing works underground. I'm going to try to reprogram these to pick up on Don's signal boosters, but that will take a while. You have to be patient. And I could try to find you an old fashioned phone with buttons, but given the size of your fingers, I don't think they would work out too well either. Why don't you just try using those styluses I brought you?"

"I keep breaking them too," Raphael muttered guiltily.

Splinter didn't understand much of what April was saying, but he had been listening quietly and it was clear that she was working very hard to help his family. From the looks of things, she was taking Donatello's disappearance and likely death just as hard as the rest of them. "Thank you, Miss O'Neil. I know that you are doing all that you can for us. Please don't neglect your own needs. Donatello would want you to take proper care of yourself," Splinter said kindly.

April felt tears spring to her eyes as she thought of the kind-hearted turtle that had come to be her best friend. "Donatello….I miss him so much. I can't imagine what you guys are going through."

"Has there been...any news of him?" Leonardo asked softly. His previous fierce demeanor had melted away, leaving something heartbreakingly vulnerable.

"No. I was able to access the fire department logs, but they didn't make any mention of a body being discovered, humanoid turtle or otherwise." April had really been hoping that she would have success in this pursuit. As much as she wanted to believe Donnie was alive, from everything that they had told her, it didn't seem possible that he could be. She wanted her friends to have some sort of closure so that they could begin to move on with their lives.

"So he could still be out there then?" Mikey pondered.

April said what she had to say cautiously. "I don't think so Mikey. The reports said that the truck contained potassium permanganate. It's a very strong oxidizer. When combined with the other accelerants that made the fire spread as quickly as it did, the fire would have burned too hot to leave any trace of….Donnie behind." With that, the tears that had been threatening began to flow.

Leonardo rose to his feet, but rather than comforting her, he took the floor with the air of a wartime general. "Am I the only one who feels that this whole thing was clearly set up? The noticeable increase in criminal activities drew us to that neighborhood, like bait. Our network was hacked to destroy our communication system. There is this seemingly unsurvivable fire at just the right time, created with just the right ingredients, and now there is no body."

Raphael raised his eye ridges. "What are you saying Leonardo?"

"I'm saying that this was planned and then carefully staged to cover up the fact that someone took Donnie. If there's no body, then he might still be alive, and we are going to tear this city apart until we find him."


	4. Chapter 4

**This just in, I still don't own them.**

A week had passed, and nothing had changed. Donnie had been given water, but no food. He could feel his body weakening and beginning to waste away. The Pseudo-Shredder, as Donnie thought of him, hadn't made any further appearances, and poor Donnie was still hanging from the wall.

Each night, prior to hosing him off, the guards offered to take him down and feed him if he would willingly submit to their boss's vague demands. Each time he refused, they beat him, focusing primarily on his right leg, which was now fractured in multiple spots. His ribs and face had taken a walloping or two as well, but it was nothing compared to his leg. He slept very little, due to his injuries and uncomfortable position.

The nightly hose-downs were something of a mixed blessing. They were Donnie's only chance to drink, and being a turtle he was able to keep his skin at least somewhat hydrated, which was helping to stave off dehydration, albeit only barely. He also appreciated that he was being kept somewhat clean. Conversely, the water was always freezing, which made his wounds ache all the more, and the guards kept to their schedule like clockwork, regardless of whether he was awake or asleep. There was nothing like being woken from a much-needed nap by a harsh stream of icy cold water.

Needless to say, Donnie was feeling pretty hazy and unfocused by the time Pseudo-Shredder deemed fit to make a return visit. Donnie squinted at him as he appeared in front of him, seemingly from nowhere. "I hear that you still aren't interested in my job offer," Pseudo-Shredder growled. Hearing that voice again confirmed that this was, indeed, harsh reality.

"No," was all that Donnie could muster. He took a few deep breaths. "I'm not," came a few moments later.

"That's fine. I can wait." Pseudo-Shredder acted as though he was about to leave, but then he turned and added, "Surely you are intelligent enough to know that your situation won't be improving anytime soon. If I were you I would just submit now, while some of your strength remains. The alternative is that I break you entirely and then use what's left of you. But that would be such a waste...for both of us"

"I have...my principals." Donnie croaked.

"For now, maybe, but I can strip those from you, along with whatever other parts of you I don't find useful." With that, Pseudo-Shredder left, and the guards closed in on Donnie for the nightly beating. An hour later, Donnie was sporting a few new bruises and another broken rib.

After taking some time to regain his senses, Donnie gave in and decided to do something that he had been trying to avoid. His family had always shared a special mental connection, and in times of great need they had been able to reach eachother through meditation. He'd been hesitant to open the connection, as there was nothing he could tell them that might aid them in a rescue attempt. He had no idea where he was or even who he was with. This imposter claiming to be the new Shredder could be anyone, really, and this organization could be any one of a number of groups that they had dealt with in the past, or even a new one entirely. So far, Donnie had seen no evidence that it was the actual Foot Clan. If it was, then where was Karai?

Having been unconscious at the time of his kidnapping, he had no way of knowing what happened or how much his brothers had witnessed. At first, he had assumed that they had seen whatever occurred and had somehow tracked him. They'd always been successful in doing so in the past. He had hoped for a quick rescue, but that optimistic wish faded a bit more with each passing day. Was he really so utterly lost? Was it possible that his family believed him to be dead? He couldn't let them suffer like that. They all needed to share their strength to make it through this, Donnie most of all.

Letting them into his mind would allow them to know how scared he was and how much he was hurting, which is why he had held off on connecting with them for this long. There was no way to keep certain parts of himself closed off, and he didn't want them to know what dire straits he was in. But nevertheless, he needed them now - their comfort and their encouragement. Most importantly, Donnie needed his family to know that none of this was their fault, and that he loved them regardless of whether rescue ever came.

So Donnie cried out for them with the entirety of his mind and spirit. It had worked for him before, when he was kidnapped and held on a Triceriton warship. Just like back then, he called for his father first. Splinter was the most skilled at meditation, and he did it the most frequently. With Donnie missing, Splinter undoubtedly would have been reaching out to him.

This time Donnie's desperate mental plea was met with a blinding pain like nothing he had ever known. It knocked him senseless, as something vital inside of him was severed - cut by a searing hot blade slicing through his mind itself. Donnie screamed before he even knew what hit him. Up until now he had avoided any display of fear or pain, but this was so fast, so intense and unexpected that he couldn't stop it. He fell unconscious as soon as the scream died down.

* * *

For the second time in recent memory, Splinter sensed a ripple. The first had occurred on the night of Donatello's loss. He had been meditating when his sons were out patrolling, and he was suddenly overcome by the feeling that something precious had been ripped away from him. Seeking out his sons' spirits, he found only three of the four. His worst fears were confirmed when the boys returned home missing a brother.

He had been reaching out continuously to Donatello ever since that fateful night, in the hopes that he was still alive somewhere. There was no more sign of him on the spiritual plane than there were any hints of him on the physical plane. Splinter was beginning to give up hope, when the second ripple occurred. It was far weaker than the first, and it cut itself off almost immediately. Splinter didn't know what it could mean. Like the first, it hurt him physically, although not nearly as sharply.

Splinter decided not to tell his sons about the second event. What could he have said? It's possible that Donatello had survived for a time, unwilling or unable to contact them. If so, this second ripple could have been his failed attempt to do just that. It also may have been that the second ripple was his death, or his soul moving to the next plane. Or it could have been nothing at all. Splinter was exhausted. They all were. They had been searching tirelessly for a week, stopping only for food and brief periods to rest. Even then, it was done in shifts.

It was difficult to go on, particularly when all evidence pointed to the same conclusion. Donatello had died in the explosion or subsequent fire. His brilliant, gentle, kind-hearted boy was dead.

Each of the brothers had now confessed that they believed Donatello's survival was extremely unlikely. They knew that he was in the dumpster only moments before it exploded. They knew that his shell cell sent out its last signal from that very spot as it burned, likely alongside his body. They knew that his spirit had seemingly disappeared from this plane. Nevertheless, they left no rock unturned.

Leonardo swung manically from believing that Don was dead to insisting that he could still be alive and they had to find him. In the end, they all kept searching. What else could they do? They had to exhaust every avenue, or they'd never forgive themselves. They reached out to every friend they had. They reviewed news footage and kept their ears to the ground for any hints. They snuck into the burned-out warehouse to search for clues. They researched the owners, the leaseholders, and the neighbors. They interrogated every Purple Dragon and Foot Soldier that they met. There was nothing. It was discouraging and disheartening, to say the least. But how could Splinter tell his sons to give up their search when he himself held a glimmer of hope? If only he knew the meaning of that second ripple.

 **Rather short, I know, but that seemed like a good place to leave this chapter. I'm hoping to have another short chapter up this weekend. As always, thank for the reviews, favorites and follows, and thanks for taking the time to read my little story!**


	5. Chapter 5

**As promised, here's a little mini-chapter. Fair warning, it's a bit on the graphic side, which is why I'm letting it stand alone. Hopefully it isn't too bad, but you might want to skip if you are squeamish.**

In all his life, Donnie couldn't recall ever feeling anywhere close to this miserable. Sure, nothing about the outbreak virus had been fun, but at least he'd had his family to dote on him. Without his mental and spiritual connection to them, he was more alone now than he had ever been. The fact that there were a dozen eyes on him at all times somehow only reinforced that loneliness.

To date, his prison experience had been unpleasant to say the least, but this was the lowest he'd been. After dangling by his wrists for what felt like weeks, both of his shoulders had long-since dislocated from strain and abuse. His captors had been focusing on his midsection a lot these days, and he was sure that at least two or three ribs had broken. To make matters worse, he was sick - very sick. At first, he'd feared that some of his infected wounds had led to sepsis, but the respiratory problems he was suffering indicated that a virus was more likely. It was no shock, given his surroundings, his declining physical condition, and all the new people he was being exposed to. He'd been racked by a high fever and persistent migraine for days. Each cough was torture on his broken ribs, and his wrists and shoulders were under incredible strain as it was, but add on his mercilessly trembling body and it felt like they his arms were about to rip off entirely.

The dry heaves were the worst though, and that's what he was dealing with now. He was rarely given anything to eat or drink, and his stomach had long since emptied. Still, his body whole body cramped and shuddered, straining his tormented ribs and shoulders to the breaking point, and squeezing the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. He was teetering on the brink of delirium. If he was being honest, he was surprised that he was even alive at his point, never mind conscious. When the latest fit was over, he moaned in spite of himself, unable to prevent the mournful noise from leaving his lips.

Unexpectedly, the chains around his wrists suddenly slackened and Donatello crashed to the floor, landing painfully on the drainage grate that ran the length of the wall. He didn't know why it happened, but he could only assume that someone had finally taken pity on him and shown him this one small mercy. All four limbs were still shackled and chained, but at least he was no longer hanging. With his one functional leg, he slowly pushed himself off of the drain and further onto the floor. He writhed around until he had gathered his limbs against his body as best he could, and then curled himself into as tight a ball as was possible given his many injuries.

This was so much better. Donnie pressed his aching forehead to the cool concrete and sighed, a few tears of relief escaping his tired eyes. His shivering increased, but it was nice to finally be laying down, to have the stress off of his shoulders, and to be able to hug and comfort himself a little. He tried to scan the guards and figure out which one had been his savior. His cell was empty, so whoever loosened up the chains must have done so from the other side of the wall. Donnie understood that his captors wanted him alive, and that whoever had freed him was probably acting on orders, rather than mercy. Still, it made him feel better to believe that maybe there was still some kindness left in the world, and that however unlikely, some of it might just be aimed at him. "Thank you," he rasped. "Thank you," he mumbled as he drifted into blessed unconsciousness.

 **Next chapter is quite a bit cheerier. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for your reviews, favorites and follows!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT. Now that that's out of the way, on to Chapter Six.**

Splinter stepped through the portal, followed closely by his three sons. They had come here out of desperation, after months of fruitless searching. The idea of requesting help from the Daimyo was obvious, and it had occurred to them almost immediately. They had put it off for one reason and one reason only - it's finality. If this didn't work, where else could they turn? What else could they do? If the Daimyo said that Donatello was dead, then that was it. There was no hope. Splinter feared how all of his sons would respond in such a scenario, but he worried about Leonardo most of all. The boy seemed close to his breaking point. As Leader, he felt responsible for what had happened, no matter what anyone said to convince him otherwise. The guilt was slowly crushing him. Splinter had his own fatherly guilt to reconcile, but he was able to bear the burden. He wasn't so sure about Leonardo.

That evening, they sat in one of the palace receiving rooms, describing what had happened to sever their family, and the months of heartbreak and frustration that had followed. The Daimyo listened to his old friends quietly, as his own son played with Michelangelo. He knew what it was like to have a son ripped away. It was Splinter and his family who had managed to return and restore him, thereby saving the Daimyo himself him from the brink. Finally, Splinter finished his sad tale, and it was the Daimyo's turn to speak.

"My friends, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Donatello was brilliant and brave, kind and strong. He was a true credit to you as a father, Splinter, and I mourn him right along with you. But surely you have come for some reason other than to share this sad news. What is it that you would ask of me?" he inquired.

It was Leonardo who stepped forward. "If I may be so bold, we wish for you to use the war staff to hunt for any signs of our brother. There's still a chance that he's alive out there, and if so, we can't just leave him all alone. If there is anyone who would be capable of figuring out Donatello's true fate, it would be you. We need to know for sure whether he is alive or dead, so that we can lay this to rest."

"After all that you have done for my family, it would be the least that I could do for yours," the Daimyo said as he stood. "It is important that your souls find peace, as well as Donatello's own soul. And, if he is alive, I will provide you with as many resources as I can spare to aid in his rescue. I will search for him this evening. We will meet for breakfast tomorrow and I will tell you what I have discovered." Splinter's family bowed in respect and thanks as the Daimyo departed.

After dinner, Splinter and Leonardo returned to their rooms to meditate, leaving Raphael and Michelangelo in each other's company. Too anxious to stay inside, they decided to stroll through the village and find a place to share a drink. Lately it seemed as though there was nothing to talk about that wasn't overpoweringly sad, so the two walked in silence until they managed to find a friendly-looking saloon.

After they were seated and served, the silence between them became even more oppressive. Michelangelo looked at his brother and realized that they were becoming strangers. Without Donatello, their whole dynamic had shifted. Michelangelo had always enjoyed pranking and teasing Raphael. In an otherwise serious family, it was his way of seeking attention, and fun, as well as keeping things light-hearted. Since Don had gone missing, and everyone was suffering so much, picking on Raphael seemed far more cruel than entertaining. Without the mock-insults, horseplay and goofing around, neither of them knew how to act. But, Michelangelo wasn't about to lose another brother. He was going to fix this here and now.

Mikey gave his brother a sad smile from across their table as he wracked his mind, looking for something to talk about. "Do you think we did the right thing by coming here?" he finally asked.

Raphael shook his head a little. "Why don't you ask me that tomorrow, Mikey? That's when we'll have our answers, hopefully, at least."

Michelangelo agreed, but they had to talk about something, and he couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't just set Raphael off. "Because I want to know now," he whined. Even if Raphael picked on him for whining or being a pest, it would be something.

"Fine then. I think we did. We can't go on like this. We've gotta know for sure, and we've exhausted all other options."

"Have we really, though, Raph?" Mikey asked thoughtfully. "Do you ever wonder what Donnie would have done in our place?"

"Ha, probably would have built some sort of mutant turtle detector and found us in no time flat," Raphael said with a fond, distant look in his eyes. They'd all believed that there was nothing that Donatello couldn't do if he put his mind to it.

"So, you think he's alive, then?" Mikey asked hopefully. Michelangelo had his own thoughts on the matter, but he'd love to be proven wrong.

"No. I think he's dead," Raphael said flatly, turning cold. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak to Michelangelo, it was just that the two of them rarely had heart-to-hearts like this. Raphael usually wasn't one to share his feelings, but if there was anyone that he was comfortable talking to, it was Donnie. But then again, Donnie was gone, and likely never to return. He exchanged a look with Michelangelo and took a sip of his drink. "You?"

Mikey seemed sad, and suddenly years older than he was. "I do too. I think he died right away. Either he burned so hard and so hot that he left no evidence behind, or the investigators found his body and took it for study. I don't think he lived, though. If he did, he would have found a way to let us know by now, if not break free altogether."

Raphael agreed. However, like the rest of them, he just couldn't bear to close that door yet. "But if there's any chance…" he started.

"Yeah, we've gotta keep looking," Michelangelo finished the thought. "For what it's worth Raph, I love you. I know it's cheesy to say, but if anything ever happens to me…"

"I know, Mikey. I, uh, love you too. And Donnie knew that we loved him." A red-cheeked Raphael then took a long sip of his drink, simply to keep his mouth occupied.

"I'm worried about Leo," Mikey said slowly. "What do you think it will do to him if the Daimyo says that Donnie is, you know…"

Raphael sighed heavily. "I don't know anymore. Feels like Leo is slowly going off his rocker, doesn't it?"

"Glad I'm not the only one who noticed. It's like after we all got hurt blowing up Shredder's ship, but like, ten times worse."

"Back then his guilt was based on nothing. We all lived. Shredder was captured. It was a good outcome," Raphael said as he stared at his glass. "This time, I think we all feel guilty about Donnie, but really, it's not anyone's fault that he's gone. The guilt is just as unfounded this time, but Leo can't seem to unburden himself."

"You blame yourself too, then?" Mikey asked as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

Raphael's shoulders drooped. "Sure. Sometimes, anyways. If I'd been faster getting to the hauler, or if I'd been watching the dumpsters instead of the warehouse, things might've been different. I don't let those thoughts eat me alive like Leo does, though."

"I do too, you know. Feel guilty, that is. If I'd have stayed in the dumpster, Donnie and I would've been together."

"Then you'd be gone too, Mikey. That'd be worse."

"Who knows, though? Maybe things might've been different. Maybe I would've noticed something. Maybe I could've saved him."

Raphael chuckled. "Maybe you would've annoyed him so much that he jumped ship and joined us before the explosion."

"Hey!" Mikey said with mock indignation. "Are you saying you'd trade me for him?!"

"I'd never trade one brother for another, Mikey," Raph said with surprising seriousness. "That's up to the hands of fate. I just deal with the outcome."

"Thanks, I guess?" Michelangelo said with a smile

Raphael waved his hand and cracked a genuine grin. "Don't mention it."

The two sat in a silence for a bit, but it was a noticeably more comfortable silence than it had been earlier. Eventually, Mikey piped up again. "If we both feel guilty, imagine how Leo feels. He gave the order to leave."

"Yeah, and he's told me that he waved Donnie back to the dumpster when you two were talking right before the explosion. I think that bothers him just as much," Raphael continued.

"I bet it would help if he had a friend to talk to. I mean, I know he has us, but we're too close to the situation. Maybe we can track down Usagi while we're here," Mikey suggested. "He might be able to help Leo."

"I don't think anyone can help Leo except Leo, Mikey."

Raphael meant what he said, but he couldn't help but feel that maybe he and Mikey were on the way to finding a way to help each other. It certainly wasn't something that he had expected to happen, but this night could have been the start of something new between the two of them. Tragedy can make a person grow up fast. They weren't kids anymore. Donnie's worst fear had always been the family splitting apart. Perhaps they couldn't save Donnie, but it wasn't too late to save their family. They had to try.

The next morning, the Daimyo met Splinter and his sons for breakfast, as promised. Although a large variety of the highest quality food was at the table, nobody made a move to eat it. Leonardo stared blindly ahead with all of his muscles tensed, looking as though he hadn't slept at all. Splinter sat straight as an arrow while his other two sons fidgeted.

"Soooooo?'" Mikey droned, just to break the silence.

"Any luck?" asked Raph, taking his cue from Mikey.

The Daimyo was unreadable, even as he began to speak. "No one, and nothing, is all-powerful. Not even the war staff."

Everyone at the table deflated, except the Daimyo himself. He continued, this time with an air of regret and sadness. "I'm afraid that I could not find any sign whatsoever of Donatello."

Leonardo clenched and unclenched a fist. "So, what does that mean?" he asked.

"Donatello may have passed away," the Daimyo said bluntly. "Or he may be hidden from me. It's impossible to say."

Mikey put his face in his hands, trying to ignore that Raphael had picked up a butter knife and appeared ready to throw it across the room.

"Hidden from you?" Splinter repeated, hoping that his voice would reign his sons in.

The Daimyo nodded. "Yes, I understand that you have not been able to contact Donatello on the spiritual plane?"

"This is true," Splinter confirmed. "I had hoped that with the added power of the war staff you would have better luck than I."

"As I said, the war staff is not all-powerful. A strong enough spiritual block would still shield him from my sight, as well as your own."

"Who could produce a block that strong? Other than you, that is?" Raphael asked.

"Any number of demon or mystics may do so," the Daimyo explained. "Though it would take a very powerful presence to hide from the staff."

"Mystics? Like the Foot Mystics?" Leonardo asked.

"Yes, they would indeed be powerful enough. But please keep in mind that I found no evidence of a spiritual block. I'm afraid that we know no more than you did prior to coming here. You must decide for yourselves whether to continue your pursuit. I wish that there was more that I could say, or something else that I could do to help. I truly do."

Raphael and Michelangelo exchanged a glance. This wouldn't be up to them, but at least they both now knew what the other was thinking.

"So, we keep looking," Leonardo said. "And it sounds like we finally have our first clue."

 **Thanks again to those of you who have taken the time to offer feedback. You guys rock!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again - Here's lucky Chapter 7**

After his initial bout of illness, Donatello had been allowed to remain on the floor. He suspected that this was because he was now too weak and injured to put up any sort of a fight if he were to somehow escape the chains. His wrists and ankles were still shackled at all times, and whenever Pseudo-Shredder paid him a visit, the chains would retract and pull him back up to the wall. It was nerve wracking, never knowing when you would suddenly be snapped backwards. Overall, however, he still appreciated being free to lay down, or even move about a little when he was feeling up to it, which was rarely. He also appreciated that he was now being fed on a fairly regular basis. Granted, it was usually disgusting, barely edible gruel, but hey, food was food.

While being on the floor was light years more comfortable, it was only moderately better in affording him some privacy. Given that three of the walls were transparent, he was still constantly watched by the six guards. The best he could do to get a bit out of their sight was to was huddle in one of the corners, but he was still easily viewable to all of them.

He didn't know how they did it, just standing there watching him all day. It wasn't something that Donnie could ever be capable of. The thought of watching someone suffer like he was suffering and not doing anything about it was enough to turn his stomach. Don was a gentle, compassionate soul, and he was trying his very best to remain so in spite of his harsh treatment. It was his way of feeling like he was winning a battle. By keeping his personality, sanity, and sense-of-self intact, he was beating this place. He tried to take pity on the guards instead of hating them. Maybe they were forced to do this, just like he was forced to stay here. Pseudo-Shredder was trying to coerce Donnie into joining him. Maybe the same thing had happened to these guys. They didn't seem to have the scars that Donnie had, but then again, most of their skin was covered. Maybe they had loved ones that were threatened. Perhaps they were slaves.

Donatello subtly peered at the closest pair now. They were silently watching him, stoic as always. He got a bit bolder and looked one of them in the eyes, searching for an answer that he doubted he would find. The recipient of his stare glared at him menacingly. Donnie shrunk back down. It hurt him so deeply, feeling this alone and friendless. He dropped his gaze down to his bad leg.

Donnie had given up on repairing it. The initial injury alone had gone untreated for too long for it to fully recover. All the subsequent injuries only complicated matters further. The leg was still a main focus of the daily beatings, so it was never allowed a chance to heal. Sometimes he tried to improve it a bit, but it always turned out to be in vain. Besides, there was nothing here to set the bones with anyway.

The rest of him was not much better, with one notable exception - his head. While he was sometimes gifted a black eye or swollen jaw, the guards and the Pseudo-Shredder never risked a serious head injury. This served to confirm what he had been told all along. They wanted him for his mind. Even the fact that his family remained free was evidence of that. Anyone who knew Donatello knew that he would do anything to protect his loved ones. If anything, irreparably bad were to befall one of them, Donnie wouldn't be able to endure it. The key to his mental health was the knowledge that his family was safe. If they were to be harmed, the mind his enemy seemed to covet so much would be lost to madness.

His family was protected for now. Pseudo-Shredder even provided occasional evidence, to keep Donnie satisfied - snippets of intercepted phone conversations, blurry time stamped photos, and other things of that nature. Whenever proof of life was provided, Pseudo-Shredder warned him that this could be the last time. If Donnie didn't begin cooperating soon, this period of amnesty towards his family would end. But, his family was strong. Donatello knew that they wouldn't fall easily. He had to believe in them and their ability to protect themselves. He couldn't give in or back down.

Donnie was clutching a photo now, as he lay in misery in a corner of the cell. It was a freeze-frame screen shot from a traffic camera that showed the hauler at an intersection near the Second Time Around Shop. Three green heads were evident in the windows, as well as what appeared to be Casey. Donnie stroked the image forlornly. He desperately missed his family, and that made looking at the image somewhat difficult. It was beginning to feel like he would never see them again. He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned. It felt like months.

His mind often wandered to the potential future that he saw years before, when Ultimate Drako had scattered each turtle to alternate dimensions. Over the prevailing years, Donnie had kept his sanity intact by telling himself that such a future could never become reality. Ch'rell was banished to an inescapable, icy world. He had no way of returning to Earth, so there was no way for him to gain control of it. But another part of him knew that nothing was ever impossible. Being locked in this inescapable cell and hopelessly separated from his family served to reawaken those old fears.

For generations, the Shredder had been a symbol. Donatello himself had seen many versions of Shredder - Demon Shredder, Ch'rell, She-Shredder, Cyber-Shredder. As Pseudo-Shredder had pointed out at their first meeting, the mantle could have been taken up by anyone, as long as they had the power to back it. Whoever his captor was, he clearly had power. The prison and the guards that surrounded Donatello at all times was testament to that. Could the reality that Drako sent him to still come to pass somehow? Was Don sitting in the prison of the man who would enslave millions and destroy civilizations that had taken millennia to build? Was this how Donatello had disappeared in that possible future? Could this be the beginning of the end? A shudder ran through him. Logically, he knew that specific future couldn't exist, but that didn't mean that a similar scenario wouldn't play out. Would his family break apart in his absence? He'd taken measures to prevent it, but life offered no guarantees.

Even though it was a mixed blessing, the happiness that the photo brought him outweighed the negative emotions. At least for the moment, his brothers were all alive and together. That was the most important thing.

He grasped the photo tighter and whispered, as though they could hear him. "I miss you guys. Stay safe out there."

* * *

Flanked by his two brothers, Leonardo stalked into Karai's waiting room. His demeanor made it clear to all who encountered him that he was in no mood to be messed around with. "Leonardo," Karai started as she peeked through her door, "What brings you here?"

"Don't act like you don't know, Karai," Leonardo growled. Michelangelo and Raphael shifted uncomfortably behind him. They weren't so sure about this idea. Over the past few years, Karai had grown into something akin to an ally. It was Leonardo himself that had convinced the others to give her a chance to prove herself, and that's exactly what she had done. By all appearances, she had been working to slowly bring a sense of honor back to her clan. While skirmishes with the Foot continued, Karai herself rarely had anything to do with them. In general, they came from outskirts of the clan that didn't wish to submit to her leadership. She was usually just as quick as the turtles to deal with those fringe groups.

"Is this about Donatello?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course, it's about Donatello!" Leonardo exploded. "Tell me what you know, Karai!"

Karai took a step back, which was rare for her. She had been raised to never back down. "I know nothing. Donatello was my friend. If I knew anything about what happened to him, I would have told you."

"How dare you call him your friend?!" Leonardo shouted. "You were no friend to him!"

A horrified Michelangelo stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother's arm. "Leo, what are you doing?" he said softly. "You said that we were just coming here to talk."

Leonardo shook his brother off. "I am talking. It's Karai that's not talking."

Michelangelo and Raphael looked at Karai apologetically. She gave them a subtle nod in thanks before she spoke. "As far as I know, there is nothing to talk about. Please, Leonardo, tell me what has changed that now makes me a suspect in your eyes?"

"The War Staff," Leonardo began, taking a deep breath to calm himself, "did not uncover any signs of my brother."

"So, this confirms that he is dead?" Karai asked.

"No! It confirms nothing!" Leonardo snapped.

Raphael put his hand on his brother's shoulder warningly, and Leonardo backed down and allowed him to speak. "The Daimyo said that Donnie could be dead, but he also said that he may be under the influence of a spiritual block."

"A spiritual block? I have never heard of such a thing."

"Maybe not, but apparently your mystics are experts in them." Raphael answered.

"My mystics? I have no mystics."

Michelangelo saw Leo's posture stiffening and quickly stepped in. "The Foot Mystics were mentioned as one possibility. Apparently, there are others that may be capable of creating a block as well. Do you know anything about that, Karai?"

"I'm afraid that I do not. And I do not know anything of the _former_ Foot Mystics either."

"That's a load of baloney, Karai," Leonardo said. He had managed to get a grip on his temper, at least for the moment.

"What do you mean? You know that I have no control over them. It was you yourself that stole the artifact that we used to keep them under our power."

"That was years ago," Leonardo said, dismissively.

"But they hated me. Why would they come back? Why would they have anything to do with me? Not only that, but they are presumed dead. You know that, Leonardo. You saw what happened yourself. You had a hand in it, even."

"Don't you tell me what I know Karai! I don't assume to know anything anymore when it comes to this! All I know is that my brother is gone, maybe dead, and that somebody has the answers. History dictates that if something bad is going down, the Foot is behind it." Leonardo leapt forward before his brothers could stop him, and with one quick motion, his blade was at Karai's throat. "Tell me where Donatello is," he snarled.

Karai was shocked. She had come to trust these turtles. Foolish of her to have let her guard down. "Leonardo, I told you I know nothing! Your family and I are enemies no longer. Why would I lie to you about your brother?"

"I don't know. You tell me, Karai. I should've known better than to trust you as an ally. The Foot will never be honorable."

"But we are evolving," Karai croaked, her throat restricted by the pressure of Leo's blade. "You have seen it yourself. I am trying to change our ways, but it takes time."

"I've given you all the time in the world. Enough is enough."

"Would you really strike me down, Leonardo? What do you think will happen if I fall? I fight to bring honor to the Foot, but there are many who wish to revert to the old ways. Do you know how many challengers I have had to face? I'm sure there are some that I don't even know about, gaining power as we speak. If I fall, one of them will eventually take over, and I assure you that they won't be at all interested in honor."

Leonardo thought for a moment and relaxed his grip on the blade. "Challengers?" he repeated quietly.

Karai whispered hoarsely, "Remove this blade and let me speak." Raphael and Michelangelo slowly crept forward, ready to disarm their brother if need be. Leonardo sensed the movement, and let the katana fall to the floor. He was ashamed of himself. Karai was right. He had no reason to suspect her. He dropped his eyes in shame.

Karai kicked him in the plastron - not too hard, but hard enough to knock him back a few steps. Rage was emanating from her. "I trust you enough to allow you to bring weapons into my chambers, and this is how you repay me?! Were it anybody else, Leonardo, I would have you thrown out right now."

"You're right, Karai. I apologize. It's no excuse but I just...haven't been myself lately."

Karai softened a little. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one." She addressed Leo, but lifted her gaze to encompass the others. "I suffered for a long time after my father was banished. I lashed out as well. I blamed you, when I shouldn't have. This is why I chose to forgive you now." Karai dropped her eyes so that they rested on Leonardo alone. "But, I will also issue you a warning. Don't lose yourself to this...and don't you ever come after me like that again. The next time, I may not be so merciful."

"Understood," Leo stated. "Now, if I may, could you tell me a little about these challengers?"

 **A quick word about this story - It's intended to be set a couple of years after the close of the 2003 series. I'm trying to stay as true to canon as possible, but the last few seasons got really convoluted and confusing. To a certain extent, I'm sort of glossing over some to the details. If you're a stickler for these things, I guess you can consider this a slight AU after season four. As always, thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Donatello had never been the type of turtle to throw his hands up and surrender. It didn't matter how high the odds were stacked against him, he had never once quit on anything. He was never afraid of hard work, and he didn't let fear of failure discourage him. If any mortal being was capable of pulling a miracle out of his pocket, it was him. He was brilliant. He was young. He was patient and he was strong. Despite the withering of his physical body, the isolation, and the challenging circumstances, his mental strength was undiminished.

The problem he was currently facing was that were no resources whatsoever at his disposal. Out of habit, Donatello cast his eyes around his cell. It was completely empty, as always. Even the food that he periodically received was cold, soft and mushy. It was never anything with bones that he could use to pick a lock. It was never anything too acidic or too alkaline, or anything that he could use as a component in even a mild chemical reaction. He had nothing to work with here, and thus no way to engineer an escape.

The manacles and chains were the only loose items in the room. The only option he saw was to figure out a way to turn them into tools or weapons, somehow. Whatever plan he came up with would probably have to be a long-term one. The guards were sure to notice what he was up to if he worked for more than a few minutes at a time.

It was already beginning to feel as though he had been here forever. Try though he may, he was completely unable to contact his family. There were times that Donatello found himself beginning to consider if there may be a hidden benefit to the other option - giving in to the Pseudo-Shredder's demands.

His captor had remained extremely vague about what his plans where. Clearly, he wanted Donatello to work on something of a scientific or mechanical nature. If Donnie agreed to help, he would undoubtedly be given some sort of resources to complete this assignment. Even if he was heavily guarded, even if he was still constantly bound in chains, at least he would have something to work with. Obviously he would never help this guy with whatever nefarious plans he was cooking up. But if he played along, he might be better able to make progress towards escaping.

But, the Pseudo-Shredder wasn't stupid. He would know exactly what Donnie's true goals were. So where did that leave them? They were just wasting time with this silly little dance while Donnie's life ticked away. There had to be a way to stop it. There had to be something better than this.

Donatello heard the sound of the hallway door opening and prepared himself for the inevitable. It was so much better when he knew what was coming. He managed to limp over to the wall before the chains mercilessly pulled him there. For once he was happy to see the Pseudo-Shredder. it was time to put all the cards on the table.

"You're looking feisty this afternoon," Pseudo-Shredder greeted him.

"I've been doing some thinking. It's time that we talked."

Pseudo-Shredder cocked his head. "Is that so? How unexpected."

Donnie shifted, the chains rattling with the movement. He decided to cut straight to the point. Enough of his life had been wasted. "You keep insisting that I submit to you. You keep telling me that you value my mind. But, what is it that you want, specifically? You've never explained."

"That's because there isn't anything specific that I want, yet." The wannabe Shredder cracked a smile that was intended to look malicious. Maybe it was his mood, or maybe it was because he had seen it so many times before, but it had no effect on Donnie whatsoever.

"What's that supposed to mean? We've been at this for months and it's extremely tiresome. Just tell me why I'm here."

"It's simple, really. As you know, my aim is to return the Foot Clan to its true purpose and restore its former glory. This will require me to dethrone Karai." He uttered her name with extreme distaste, even turning to spit on the floor of the cell. At least he hadn't aimed at Don. "Karai has Chaplin on her side, just as Ch'rell had Stockman. I need one of those. If I am to defeat Karai, I will need resources comparable to hers."

Donatello considered this. Chaplin was a lovesick fool who followed Karai blindly. While he was morally questionable, he did what he did voluntarily, in the hopes of being noticed, and because of the resources that the Foot afforded him. Donatello had no reason to behave in that manner. His simple lab in the sewers and the love of his family and friends was always enough to keep him happy.

Baxter Stockman was more complicated. Baxter himself was not terribly loyal to the Foot. He was indebted to them, and so they used him as a tool. When he couldn't produce what they wanted, they simply took another peice of him as payment. At one point, he had been reduced to a brain floating in an aquarium. Is that what would happen to him, too? The thought was revolting. Donnie looked at the leg that they had irreversibly crippled. Was it starting already?

Donatello had been momentarily dumbfounded and lost in his own thoughts. He suddenly snapped out of it and realized that he needed to speak. "But, why...why me?" he blurted.

"Oh please, Donatello. We both know that your mind is easily the rival of theirs. What sort of an idiot wouldn't see the value of having someone like you on their side?"

"But, why...Why do you think I would work for you? What makes you think that I would ever do that? I'm not like Chaplin or Stockman. I fight for the good guys, because it's who I am, inherently. I don't care about money, or fame, or glory, or impressing women. How do you think you're going to get me to go along with this?"

"I don't know, Donatello."

"What?"

"Ha!" Pseudo-Shredder laughed. "People, no, things, like you just hate it when you can't make sense of everything, don't you?" The words were practically hissed.

"Well it is my life we're talking about. I prefer for it to make sense, have a purpose."

"But it does have a purpose. Your purpose is to wait patiently until the time is right. Think of yourself as a weapon in my armory. Consider yourself stockpiled for future use."

"But, I'm not. I'm not on your side. And if you want me to be, shouldn't you be trying to win me over, rather than torturing me? You're not exactly endearing yourself to me, with the imprisonment and the daily beatings. And, if you're capable of forcing me to do your bidding, then why haven't you done so already?"

"Because I don't need you yet. I'm not foolish enough to strike before I'm ready. As I said at our first meeting, I'm a patient man. I'm building power, gathering followers, amassing weapons. These things take time. I'll use them, and you, when the time is right. We both know that I've been holding back. We both know there are ways of forcing you to comply."

Hurting his family, taking innocent lives - It's true that there were ways of manipulating him that hadn't been tried yet. These were very real fears that Donatello had been preparing himself for all along. At some point, he knew that he'd have to face them.

But there was something else that clicked into place. The arms transfer on the night of his kidnapping made sense now. It hadn't been a coincidence. He had been acquired, just like those grenade launchers. The two must be connected. Had his brothers thought to follow that lead? If they'd managed to track the weapons, they'd eventually find this group. Could it be that they were coming for him, after all? The flame of hope that had never entirely stopped flickering flared higher for the first time in months.

Donnie didn't betray his feelings. He stayed as calm and as firm as he could, while locked in chains and hanging from a wall. Despite his newfound optimism, he had a growing realization that this whole thing was nothing but a farce. Pseudo-Shredder had been toying with him all along. He looked his enemy dead in the eyes, showing no fear. "You have a point. We both know exactly what my true 'weaknesses' are. I'd like to keep them safe, and spare them pain. So, what happens if I decide to accept the inevitable and I just say yes now? What if I agree to work for you? What happens then?"

"Nothing. You save yourself a beating, but then you have some cold slop for dinner and curl up in one of these corners just like every other night. I control the timeline. Not you."

That night, when the guards asked their usual question - 'Will you agree to work for us?' Donatello still said 'no,' and accepted the beating. He knew he could have avoided it, that the answer made no difference. He had no control. He had no freedom, no choice in anything. But, he could chose to remain defiant, to stick to his guns and be true to himself. So, he did, consequences be damned.

* * *

"Here we are stop number one of the tour," Michelangelo said as he looked at the piece of paper Karai had given them. "Robert He-che-a-krriii….Can somebody else read this? Who would have thought that Karai would have such terrible handwriting? She always struck me as a perfectionist." Michelangelo blindly tossed the piece of paper over his shoulder as though it was worthless, and Leo dove for it as though it was his last lifeline before falling into some bottomless abyss.

"Michelangelo!" he scolded, "what if this landed in a puddle or something? We need it!"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. We could always go back and ask Karai for another copy, one that we could actually read this time."

Raphael laughed. "I wouldn't be too keen on going back there so soon after Leo held a sword to her throat. I suspect we're better off giving her a little time to cool off."

"Alright, alright," Leo cut in. He really didn't want to have to discuss his bad behavior again. "We have the address, that's all that matters. If his last name is important, we'll figure it out."

Michelangelo ignored Leonardo and began ranting about the importance of penmanship, clearly hoping to get a rise out of his uptight leader. Eager to get away from his brother's antics, Raphael had already climbed the fire escape. He was a couple of stories up when he noticed movement in the alley below. He looked down, ready to call out a warning, but he saw that Leonardo and Michelangelo were already on guard. They shrunk back into the shadows as several Foot ninja appeared, dressed in full garb and carrying cups of coffee and paper bags. They slowed to enter the shop that the turtles were investigating.

It was an old four story building that consisted of a hardware store topped with a series of apartments. The whole thing seemed to be in disrepair. Raphael had peeked into the first few apartments on his way up the fire escape. Nobody had been home, but this place had slumlord written all over it.

Leonardo allowed the Foot to pass, then motioned to his brothers. Raphael was to stay on the fire escape and stand guard. Mikey and Leo were working reconnaissance. Leonardo slapped a small listening device on the corner of the storefront window. When it became clear that the Foot were headed to one of the apartments, Mikey followed them and planted another device nearby.

Over the course of the night, it grew apparent that this was some sort of meeting spot for members of the Foot who were unhappy with Karai. Unfortunately, nothing of substance was discussed. It was just a simple coffee and alcohol fueled bitch-session. By the time that the party began to break up, Leonardo's patience had run out. This was just another dead end. They had been spinning their wheels for too long now, and he had had enough of it.

Telling Mikey to come with him and motioning for Raphael to stay put, he smashed one of the shop windows. It was an uncharacteristically rash act, but in Leonardo's mind, there was nothing to lose. It seemed more appropriate than ringing the doorbell. As expected, a dozen alarmed Foot came rushing down the stairs.

Leonardo met them in the entryway. "Not a fan of Karai, huh? I used to feel the same way."

A befuddled Michelangelo stepped to his brother's side, wondering what had gotten into Leo. Shaking it off, he decided to defray the situation with a bit of comic relief. "She's not so bad. Her handwriting sucks, though."

One of the Foot came forward, "What are you turtle freaks doing here? Did you come looking for a fight now that you can't find one out on the streets?"

"We like things nice and calm on the streets, actually. What we want from you is information." Leo said evenly.

"Bout what?" one of the ninjas in the back said.

"Our brother." Leo answered.

"What? Did you lose another one?" the Foot snickered. There were only two turtles in front of them, after all.

Mikey stepped forward and slapped the cup out of the ninja's hand. "My latte!" he lamented.

"What kind of a ninja drinks lattes?!" Mikey barked.

"One with refined taste," the man thundered. "We can't all be sewer-dwelling scum-suckers like you, after all."

"Do I smell pumpkin spice? That makes it even worse," Mikey countered. "Say what you will about Karai, you'd never catch her drinking a PSL."

"Enough!" Leo shouted. "Enough about lattes and penmanship and Karai. None of that is why we're here. Tell us what you know about our brother."

"Which one?" came a voice from the back. "The one that went missing a few months ago, or the one that's missing now?"

Leo rolled his eyes. "The first one."

"Oh. Well, I don't know anything about either of them."

"Then why did you bother to specify?" Mikey asked, calmly.

"Curiosity," came the simple reply.

"Okay," Leo said levelly, "do you guys know anything about anything, or do you just sit around all day drinking girly drinks and complaining about your boss?"

A tall ninja that had previously been silent finally stepped forward. The hush that fell over the group implied that he carried a certain air of authority. This must've been Robert. "Get out," was all that he said, but he said it in a way that made them momentarily consider complying.

Leonardo wasn't scared. "Make us."

"You guys break my window, come in here uninvited, ruin my party, insult my friend's taste in beverages, and now you're refusing to leave. Still think of yourselves as the good guys, or have you given up that charade?"

Leonardo opened his mouth, but Michelangelo spoke first. "Oh, so this is your place? It's kind of a dump, don't you think?" Robert simmered with barely contained anger while Mikey continued his rant.

"Still, there's plenty of possibilities here." Mikey picked up a nearby rubber hammer and inspected it. "You know who would've loved this place is my brother, Donatello. He's the one who 'went missing,' as your friend put it. He could build anything out of anything else. You could give him a pile of garbage and he'd turn it into some cool gadget a schmuck like you could never even dream of."

"Got a point, turtle?"

"I was getting there. My point is, that Donatello was kind of like this store. He may not have looked like much, but he had endless possibilities." Mikey put the hammer down. "So you ought to be able to understand why we'd be willing to stick our necks out here."

"Haha, stick your necks out! I get it. Because you're turtles, right?" came a previously unheard voice. It was becoming clear to both Leonardo and Michelangelo why Foot ninjas spoke so rarely. They were idiots.

"Bravo, sir," Leo said. "But, I think what my brother was trying to say was that we loved Donatello, so we're going to do whatever it takes to bring him home, or at least bring his murderers to justice."

"What does that have to do with us?" one of the Foot asked.

"We're just following a lead," Leo explained. "If it's a dead end we'll leave you in peace."

"Well, let's just get this over with, then. What do you want to know?" The ninja next to Robert asked.

"Anything you can tell us. Any rumors about our brother that you may have heard. Anything about mystics." Leo answered.

"I heard the mystics were dead," the latte-drinker responded. The crowd of Foot murmured their agreement.

"I heard your brother is dead too," another voice said. Again, there were nods and hushed whispers.

"That's it? No details? Who told you he was dead?" Leo asked, as he fought the urge to hit something, or perhaps someone.

Robert spoke up again. "It just seemed obvious. There were four of you. Then there were three. We may be a bunch of know-nothings in your eyes, but the math is simple enough."

"There's nothing simple about it." Leo replied.

"I think we're done here," Robert said. "Whatever magical answer you're looking for, you're not going to find it in my shop."

"Magical answer? We just want facts," Leo said.

Robert stepped forward menacingly, towering over the turtles. "Fact is, you're hunting a ghost, at least as far as we're concerned. Fact is, you're trespassing, and if your beloved Karai hadn't ordered us to stand down when it comes to you freaks, I would've cracked your shell in two by now."

"Where did that come from?" Mikey asked. "Escalate, much?"

"Did we escalate, or did you? You've been hassling us ever since that other freak went down, and since Karai neutered us, we're just supposed to take it?"

"Hassling you?" Mikey parroted in disbelief. Sure they had participated in their fair share of shakedowns, in the hopes of finding information that could lead to Don, but had they really become the aggressors?

Beside Michelangelo, Leo drew his katana. His voice was steady, and cold as ice. "No one calls my brother a freak."

Robert matched the tone. "To be clear, I was calling you all freaks."

Leonardo let out a growl and flew at Robert, his blade extended before him. Robert managed to land a snap kick on Leo's plastron, stopping his momentum. The other Foot closed in on him, requiring Mikey to enter the foray. He started his nunchaku spinning, delivering a blow to the ribs of one Foot, and simultaneously catching another in the arm.

"Who's escalating now?" one of the Foot yelled. Michelangelo somewhat agreed. They had been the ones to break the window. Even after that, it had been all talk until Leo attacked.

"Leo," Mikey yelled as he ducked beneath a fist. "These dummies don't know anything. This isn't who we are!"

Leo grumbled in frustration, but began backing towards the door. Michelangelo was right. This wasn't them. It wasn't him. His desperation to find some sort of answer was making him lose control of himself. Unfortunately, Karai's attempts to bring honor to the Foot had left these guys aching for a fight. "You're not getting away that easy," Robert hollered.

Michelangelo reached the door and pulled Leo through the threshold by the cusp of his shell. The melee spilled out onto the street. Leo and Mikey tried to hold back. They didn't want to do any permanent damage.

Raphael, having maintained his vigil on the fire escape, saw the scene unfold before him. Like the Foot, he had a lot of pent up aggression to deal with. Without hesitation, he leapt of the edge of the platform, aiming directly for the perceived leader. His trajectory was perfect, and he knocked Robert off his feet.

Taking advantage of the resulting distraction, Michelangelo yelled "Run!" As much as Raphael wanted to stay and fight, he trusted Mikey enough to follow him as he took off down the alley.

Leo sprang to his feet and did the same. "Sorry about your window," he yelled over his shoulder.

"And your latte," Mikey added.

 **Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it!**


	9. Chapter 9

After six months of missteps, frustration, and arguments, Splinter's family had come to something of an understanding. They would continue searching for information, but it could no longer be the main focus of their lives. Splinter, Raphael and Michelangelo had essentially accepted that Donatello was dead, although they all had occasional moments of doubt. The three were working to move on with their lives, and to honor their fallen brother's legacy. Sure, there were questions surrounding his death, but life doesn't always provide you with the answers you are looking for. Countless families all around the world with missing loved ones can attest to that.

Leonardo alone still held out hope of finding his brother alive. For him, the search had grown into an obsession, robbing him of sleep, happiness, and any leisurely pursuits. Now that he had eliminated all of the leads that Karai had provided, there was one person that he was beginning to fixate upon. This person had an avid interest in the turtles. He had access to nearly unlimited funding and all of the technology and power that came along with it. He even had several grudges to settle with them. Perhaps most importantly, he had been connected to the Foot Mystics in the past. It was Agent John Bishop.

Unfortunately, Bishop was a hard man to find when he wanted to be, and without Donatello around to assist in the search, Leonardo was floundering. He was more than tired of waiting. To him, it was clearly time for a more direct approach, and he had called a family meeting to discuss his thoughts with the others. As he looked around the table, the faces he was met with were not those of the fierce warriors he had come to know. They looked tired, concerned, and full of pity. It made Leo's hackles rise.

"Come on, Leo, you haven't touched your pizza," Mikey urged. He nudged a box in Leo's direction. "You need to eat more. I'm really starting to worry about you."

"This isn't about pizza," Leo growled in frustration.

"Then eat some and I'll shut up," Mikey said, sensibly.

"I agree with Michelangelo," Splinter chimed in. "Have something to eat, Leonardo, then we'll talk."

Leonardo scowled as he aggressively shoved an entire slice of pizza into his mouth and swallowed it after far too little chewing. "Satisfied?" he coughed.

"Yes, my son," Splinter nodded, as he struggled to suppress his irritation at his son's impertinence. "Self-care is important. This is a good start."

Leonardo rolled his eyes, as he made a show of taking another slice. "Anyways, as we all know, finding Bishop has proven to be trickier than anticipated."

"Yeah, and that makes me all the more suspicious that he has a hand in this," Raphael agreed. While Raphael wholeheartedly believed that Donnie was dead, he still wanted answers. Raphael had never been the type of turtle to just take things sitting down. His whole family was suffering. One of his priceless, irreplaceable brothers was dead. Somebody needed to pay, preferably with blood.

"Maybe it's time that we make it clear that we're looking for him." Leo stated firmly. "I think that we should storm Area 51."

Mikey spit soda across the table "WHAT!"

Splinter glared at Michelangelo as he wiped the drink from his robe. "Leonardo, this idea seems...foolish."

"No kidding it's foolish," Raphael shouted. "That place is crawling with hostile government agents. We wouldn't stand a chance of getting to Bishop there."

Leonardo threw his hands up. "Well, clearly we need a good plan first. That's what this meeting is about."

Raphael's response was dripping in sarcasm. "Oh, so you weren't just planning on waltzing through the gates? Well, that's a load off my mind. So, what's it gonna be? Parachute drop? Show up wearing signs that say, 'dissect me'? Sneak in in the back of a laundry truck?"

"Maybe," Leo sneered. "Any other ideas?"

"I've got an idea," Mikey put in. "I say we don't do it!"

"Then what would you have us do, Mikey?" Continue sitting around watching TV and eating pizza?" Leo said as he mockingly waved his slice around. "Our brother is out there, probably suffering and alone, but hey, let's forget about that. Why bother trying to rescue him when we can just sit around on our shells, scarf down a few meat-lovers, and watch a movie or two?"

Raphael immediately stood to defend Michelangelo, his chair crashing to the ground behind him, but it was Splinter who spoke first, in a commanding voice that still made his sons quiver. "Leonardo! You forget yourself!"

Leonardo turned to his father in shock. "We are _all_ suffering!" Splinter continued. "We have _all_ lost a loved one! Do you feel that lashing out at your brothers will improve the situation? Do you feel that ignoring your own needs will bring Donatello home?"

Leonardo sat in silence and absorbed this. His father and brothers quietly returned to eating, not wanting to push Leo any further. They weren't angry. If anything, they were sympathetic and concerned for his wellbeing.

"I'm sorry," Leonardo said after a while. "I admit I've been on edge and I've been short tempered with you guys. I'll try to do better."

"Thank you, Leonardo," Splinter said as he placed a paw over his son's three fingered hand.

"But," Leonardo said, "I still think we need to go after Bishop."

"Come on, Leo, what reason is there to think that Bishop was involved?" Raphael asked in the most non-argumentative tone that he could muster.

"Who else would've been able to produce that signal and hack Donnie's network? Who else would take our brother and then ask nothing of us? Our other enemies would taunt us, but Bishop would keep Donnie, study him. It just makes sense, doesn't it?" The edge of anger was totally gone from Leonardo's voice. There was only desperation now.

"The Triceraton could've been behind it. They could've taken Donnie and left without a trace," Michelangelo said quietly. He hated entertaining this idea that Donnie was alive. To him, there was no hope of that. At this point, he was so worried about Leo's seemingly tenuous grip on reality that he felt it was best just to play along.

"If it were the Triceraton, there would've been a ship," Raphael said. "And why would they only want Donnie when they could've taken all of us? They had no specific beef with him." Raphael knew what Michelangelo was trying to do, but deflection and distraction was not what was needed now. Leonardo needed to come to grips with reality. They had been dancing around the truth for long enough.

Michelangelo shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't really thought it was the Triceraton. He was just trying to derail the crazy-train that Leo had boarded.

Leonardo was completely unaware of the subtext of the conversation. "Not only that, but if the Triceraton were around, then Bishop would know about it. So, we keep coming back to him," he said.

Splinter sighed. "You really want to pursue this?"

"Yes, father. I need to."

"Leonardo, may I remind you that just last week you were convinced that Donatello was dead? And prior to that you were convinced it was the Foot? What has changed since then?"

"Nothing father. It's just that every night, when I lay down and close my eyes, I just keep thinking 'what if...what if.' How can I move on when it keeps haunting me? Have you guys? be honest with me." Leo looked at the faces of his family imploringly.

Mikey spoke first. "I'll help you however I can. I'm with you…. But Leo, I don't share these doubts that you have. In my mind, Donnie is….dead. He's dead, Leo. We saw what happened. How could he have made it out alive? What evidence is there that he did?"

Leonardo opened and closed his mouth, but said nothing, so Raphael spoke next. "I think he's dead too, Leo. It's not like I never have doubts, but to me, those doubts are really nothing more than wishful thinking. It's not like I want to give up on him. It's just that I genuinely don't see how he could've lived." There were tears running down Raph's face now, in a rarely seen show of emotion. He let them fall unhindered. "I think he's looking down at us now, and he's wanting us to move on. You know how Donnie was. All he ever wanted was peace. Peace for the world, but most of all, peace for us. It's been six months, Leo. It's time to face the truth. He wouldn't want you doing this to yourself. Especially not on his behalf."

Splinter nodded sadly. "I didn't see what you boys saw that night, but I did feel him being ripped away from us. Not only that, but Donatello's continued absence on the spiritual plane is, to me, very clear evidence of his death. As painful as it may be, I agree that he would want us all to move on and find some sort of closure. Donatello could never stand to see anyone suffer, let alone his family."

Leonardo stared at the tabletop. "If you tell me to stand down, I will."

Splinter looked to Raphael and Michelangelo, who nodded forlornly. "Then it is decided. We are not storming Area 51. Leonardo, your brothers and I will try to help you accept what has happened. Raphael is correct that this is what Donatello would have wanted."

"Okay," Leonardo said simply.

"Leo," Raphael said. "We'll still keep our ears to the ground, and as soon as Bishop pokes his head out, we'll be all over it. Donnie's blood is on somebody's hands. I'm not about to let anybody get away with killing my brother. You're right that Bishop is as good a lead as any. You know he'll come after us eventually, and when he does, we'll be all over it."

"Thanks," Leo said, sadly. "Don't think I'm mad at you guys. I'm not. I guess I'm just...lost, right now." Leo left the table, needing some time alone. The family that he left behind spent the rest of the evening discussing how best to help him heal.

 **As always, thanks for reading, and thanks to those of you who have taken a moment to favorite, follow, and review. I really appreciate it!**


	10. Chapter 10

Splinter sat alone in his room. In his hand he held an envelope.

After his nightmarish visit to the alternate future that Ultimate Drako had sent him to, Donatello had been so traumatized, so afraid that he would somehow disappear and that his family would fracture. He sat them all down, told them what he had seen, and made them promise to always stick together no matter what. The others had tried to convince him that that future would never happen, but Donatello was adamant.

In the end, maybe a part of his nightmare had come true after all. His family held onto their promise as though their lives depended on it. Sometimes it was surprisingly difficult. They were all under stress, and the tight living quarters didn't help. Nobody was happy anymore.

After the Drako incident, Splinter had done his best to counsel his struggling son. He was no psychiatrist, but he did all that he could. One of the things that he did was encourage Donatello to write letters to each of them. This way, if he did disappear, his family would have something to cling to - some final words to remember him by. Donatello had given the letters to Splinter for safekeeping.

After Donatello's disappearance, Splinter had not immediately mentioned the letters to the others. To do so seemed to be accepting his son's death, and nobody had been ready to do that right away. But now, the timing felt right, particularly since they were all attempting to help Leonardo move on. However, if he was going to distribute these letters, it would be best if he read his own first. It was a step he had been reluctant to take.

Splinter found his center and gathered his courage. His grizzled old paw unsealed the envelope, and the precious letter slid out. "Donatello," he said out loud, as if his voice could somehow summon the spirit of his dearly missed son. In a sense it worked. He was closer to Donatello now than he had been since his death. He steeled himself, and unfolded the letter reverently.

 _Father,_

 _It often amazes me how you cobbled our family out of nothing, made a loving home in the sewers. It's so easy to forget that you had no obligation to care for us at all. You must have been so scared after your mutation, and yet you had the presence of mind to save us and make a life for us together - and what a life it was!_

 _I want you to know that I wouldn't change a thing about my time here. Even if it ended too early, too brutally, too sadly, it was all worth it. My life was purpose-driven, and so few people can say that. We've all made such a positive difference in this world, even if we never get recognition or credit for it. We know, and that's all that matters. As is so often the case, the knowledge is its own reward._

 _I worry that you will feel guilty for my loss - as though you forced me into a lifestyle that ultimately led to my demise. It's no secret that I was the most reluctant ninja of the group, but, I'm not sure that you know just how much I grew to love it. The strength that flowed through my body, the feel of the wind flying past as we leaped over rooftops, the way that the mind focuses in during battle, the feel of my brothers beside me - I loved all of it, and I wouldn't change a moment. Maybe it took some persuasion in the beginning, but ninjutsu became such an integral part of who I am. I wouldn't have been me without it, and I loved being me!_

 _I could've lived my life in a glass cage. I could've been some kid's pet, or a science experiment, or made into soup. Maybe I would've lived for a hundred years, but my life never would have truly mattered. Instead I was a warrior, an engineer, a scientist, and more importantly, a brother and a son. I saw things that I never dreamed of. I tasted victory and felt the thrill of discovery. I knew true friendship and love._

 _There's one thing that I'm sure of above all else. I would've been nothing without you. Please don't mourn how short my life was. Celebrate how much I loved it, and how lucky I was to have been able to live it at all. I love you, Father._

 _Forever your son,_

 _Donatello_

Splinter read the letter over and over. In some ways it was an answered prayer. Splinter carried wounds that would never entirely heal, as well as guilt about the deadly path he had guided his sons down. He had always assumed that Donatello himself would have been happy to live a life underground, studying, inventing, exploring. Donatello had been a gentle soul, and it had taken him a long time to accept that he may need to hurt others in order to protect those he loved. At first, Donatello had only entered training because he wanted to make his father happy and keep up with his brothers. It was a true gift, to read that Donatello had ultimately wholeheartedly embraced ninjutsu.

Nonetheless, however comforting the letter may be, it also emphasized the preciousness of the soul he had lost. Splinter was living every parent's worst nightmare, and it was only amplified by his isolation, and the pain of watching a beloved family which was once so close falling to pieces. He tucked the letter beneath his pillow before retiring to his bed. "Oh, my son," he whispered, brokenly. "How I miss you."

* * *

Donatello's body convulsed as the shock collar leaped into action. Had he fallen asleep again?

"Wha?" He slurred, looking around the room in confusion. He was once again chained to the wall, the electricity burning through the skin of his wrists and ankles where they touched the manacles.

"Now is that any way to say good morning, or good evening in this case?" the Pseudo-Shredder purred.

All Donatello could do was utter an unidentifiable sound. His captors were growing increasingly irritated at his continued defiance. They'd been depriving him of sleep for the past half week, in the hopes of breaking his spirit. Every time he so much as nodded off, they shocked him awake again. He was doing his best to stay conscious, fearing further electrical burns.

If only there was a way to sleep with one's eyes open. As it was, his hallucinations were becoming so vivid that they may as well be waking dreams. He was constantly feeling like he was forgetting something, like his brain was forever searching for something it just couldn't find. His family. His father. But they weren't coming. Were they?

"Father," he whimpered wretchedly, not even realizing that he'd said it out loud.

Pseudo-Shredder reached up and grabbed him by the jaw. "Oh now, if that isn't the most pathetic thing I've ever heard. You want your Daddy, freak?"

Even in his confused state, Donnie knew better than to answer. That would only bring more pain. They'd use any excuse to hurt him. Still, he couldn't stop a salty tear from rolling down his cheek. He _did_ want his father. Oh God, he wanted his family so badly.

A whimper escaped his lips without his permission. He needed to get a hold of himself. If only they'd just let him sleep.

'Shredder' cocked his head. "Your poor rat father," he spat. "What do you think this is doing to him? One of his precious sons gone. Do you think his heart can take it?"

Donnie whimpered again. He'd thought a lot about that, back when he was capable of thinking. He worried about all his loved ones, but Splinter most of all. He rarely left the lair, so no proof of life was ever provided. Was he okay? Could he be sick?

That was the day that Donnie began experiencing a repeating vision. He'd had nightmares all along, but this wasn't the same thing. It was closer to a sleep-deprived hallucination, but even when they finally began letting him sleep again, he would see the same thing over and over in his dreams. The details were always exactly the same. Splinter being consumed by death, borne out of grief and old age. His remaining sons surrounding his bedside, totally helpless to stop it. In a sense, it was all Donnie's fault. He wasn't there to help them. "All my fault," he muttered.

"Yes, it is," the Pseudo-Shredder agreed.

* * *

Leonardo stood on a rooftop overlooking the warehouse where his life took such a drastic turn, his mask tails fluttering playfully in the breeze. He'd made this trip an untold number of times in the past few months. At first, he went to look for clues, signs of his brother, anything at all. Then he started coming just to think. If he needed to get away from the Lair, this was where he ended up. Somehow, he felt closer to Donnie here.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the wind. "They say it's time to let you go. Maybe they're right."

He picked up a handful of dirt and dust that had accumulated next to the roofline. Maybe some of it even contained ashes leftover from the fire. Maybe some piece of his brother was in there. He raised his hand and slowly opened his fingers, watching the tiny particles fly away. Who knows how long those grains of dust had clustered together in this spot, bonded to one another like he and his brothers had been. Now they were scattered to the wind, never to touch again. Just like his family seemed to be.

"I hope that you're at peace now, Donnie."

* * *

 **As always, thanks for reading, and special thanks to those who have reviewed, favorited and followed. Getting those notifications always makes my day!**


	11. Chapter 11

Donnie was lying as still as he could, trying not to cause himself any more pain than was necessary. To him, life was pain lately, both mental and physical. The sleep deprivation experiments had ended, likely because his hallucinations had grown worse and his captors feared imminent brain damage. Since he was still refusing to work for the Pseudo-Shredder, they'd returned to garden-variety physical torture for the time being. This, however, was nothing compared to what was going on in his mind. His nightmares were unrelenting. Sleep had once been his only escape from this place, but now it was what he dreaded most of all.

His dreams spoke of a reality that he could never handle. Donnie saw his loved ones consumed by death, first Splinter, then the rest.

 _Raphael behaving recklessly in the name of revenge and picking one fight too many._

 _Leonardo ravaged by guilt and helplessness until he was a shell of his former self, helpless to stop the sword as it fell._

 _Michelangelo, always the glue that held the family together, unable go on when he was finally left all alone._

Donatello told himself that none of it was real. This place was just getting to him. Still, he didn't have anything else to occupy his mind, which made it hard to resist the urge to pick apart his nightmares. What bothered him most was that he could easily envision things working out that way.

He kept telling himself that they weren't real. They couldn't be real. He couldn't believe it.

* * *

Raphael couldn't believe it. "You're what?!"

"Going on a date," Michelangelo reinforced.

"With Renet?" Leonardo asked, equally dubious.

"Yes. I'm going out with Renet tonight." Mikey boasted. Everyone always assumed that if anyone was capable of success with the ladies, it was Raphael. Mikey had been an underdog in this particular race. Of course he was going to gloat about it.

"And you're sure it's a date?" asked Raphael.

"Welllll," Mikey drawled, "Maybe there's a chance it's not a date - a small chance."

"Ha! I knew it," Raphael exclaimed. "Renet may be a ditz, but she's not stupid enough to date you!"

Leonardo laughed at his brother's' antics. As much as Michelangelo was irritated at being the butt of the joke, he had to admit it was nice to hear that sound again. He took a moment to savor it before putting on his defense. "You're just jealous that she invited me on a solo mission instead of you!"

"Ohhhh, so now it's a _mission_ ," Leonardo smiled. "That makes a lot more sense."

"Is it a mission, Leo- _nard_ -o, or is it a ploy to get me alone?"

"It's a mission," Leonardo and Raphael said in unison.

"Oh, come on. Why me, then?" Mikey pointed out.

It was a good question. Leonardo thought for a few moments, until Raphael interrupted his reverie. "Maybe she needs someone expendable to use as bait?"

"She needs some arm candy is more like it," Mikey bragged, striking a pose.

"What exactly did Renet say?" Leonardo asked.

"She said that she was going on a mission, and that she thought I might come in handy."

"Just you?" Raphael asked.

"Yeah. She said she didn't want a crowd."

Raphael whacked Mikey in the back of the head, just like old times. "In what way is that a date, Mikey?"

Michelangelo playfully dug his pointer finger into Raphael's chest to emphasize what he was about to say. "Because we're going to the future, and she said that if I helped her out, we could do whatever I wanted afterwards - 'her treat.'" Mikey looked to his brothers. He knew they'd be impressed with that.

Sure enough, Leonardo and Raphael were momentarily befuddled. That did kind of sound like a date. Particularly because in the future, they were free to walk around out in the open. They could go anywhere and do anything, just like regular people.

Leonardo couldn't stop himself in time. "Make sure you ask about Donnie!" he blurted out. He covered his mouth immediately afterwards, casting a sidelong glance at Michelangelo to gauge his reaction.

Michelangelo visibly tensed, and carefully set down the bottle of cologne he'd been toying with so that he could cross his arms and look Leo in the eye. "Seriously? Is that really the best you can do for brotherly advice? This is my first date, Leonardo."

Leonardo vigorously shook his head 'no,' hand still over his mouth. Simultaneously, Raphael fake coughed "notadate!"

Michelangelo ignored Raphael and kept speaking to Leo. "I love and miss Donatello just as much as you do, but not everything is about him. This is about me and my first date, which, might I add, is with a cool girl that I would very much like to impress. Bringing up my dead brother is probably not the best way to do that. Besides, if there was anything Renet could've told us about Donnie, I'm sure she would've done it right away. In fact, I'm sure she would've even done something to save him if she could've."

"This is Renet we're talking about," Raphael pointed out. "Lower your expectations."

"Hey!" Mikey defended. "Quit picking on my girl!"

Raphael was going to continue teasing Mikey, but then he had a last-minute change of heart. "Awww. You're adorable. What do you say, Leo, any advice for the little guy?"

Leo shrugged. "Knock'em dead, tiger?" What was he supposed to say? It's not like he had any experience with the ladies.

"You're an embarrassment, Leonardo," Raphael mourned. "Seriously, Mikey. I don't know if this _is_ a date, but if it is, just relax and have fun. You were always good at that."

The use of past tense wasn't lost on them, nor was it a slip of the tongue on Raphael's part. Things had sucked for everyone, but Donnie had been gone for nine months now. At a certain point, they all had to start living again.

* * *

At the much-anticipated dinner, fifty years in the future, Michelangelo cast a flirtatious glance at Renet. He knew he shouldn't bring it up. He really did. But, since his little squabble with Leo he couldn't stop thinking about Donnie. It was like there was a third person at the table, and it was killing the mood. Was it possible that Renet really could help them out somehow? How could he go about asking her? Maybe if he brought it up playfully?

"I know you can't tell me," he said with a wink, "but can't you at least give me a little hint about what happened to Donnie?"

"That would _totally_ be cheating! You know better than to ask me something like that." Renet scolded with mock indignation.

"It's just so weird, though. You were close to Donnie too, after all that time we spent together in the Cretaceous before the time scepter showed back up. Isn't the mystery of what happened to him driving you crazy too? I mean, unless you _do_ know something we don't?"

"You know that I cared about Donnie - care about Donnie. That doesn't mean that I can peak in on the past or tell you what may or may not happen in the future. There are strict rules about these things, Michelangelo! Events are supposed to work out in a certain way, and I can't risk changing anything."

Mikey waved her off. "Oh please, Renet, what could possibly go wrong? Just blink twice if we ever figure out for sure what happened to him. Blink three times if we bring his killers to justice. Oh, and blink four times if we, maybe...find him alive." He said the last part with heartbreaking vulnerability. Mikey didn't often entertain the notion that Donatello could have survived. He knew that the odds were next to impossible, but he wanted it so badly that it hurt to even think about it, never mind say it.

Renet saw the look that flashed across his face and did her best to ignore it. She was here to help him, just not in the way that he wanted her to. "I have to blink, Michelangelo, it's a biological necessity. I don't need you scrutinizing my blinks," she said in the hopes of lightening the mood.

Mikey crossed his arms and gave her a stern look. "If this whole thing is going to work out, then you and I have to come to an agreement about these matters. Donnie's disappearance has been the driving force of my recent life. I can't be with someone who knows about the outcome and not ask!"

Renet rolled her eyes. She never told him this was a date. In fact, they wouldn't start dating for years. But, that was for her to know and him to find out. "Well, you can ask all you want, but I can't give you a hint. Things need to happen in their own way, and in their own time, Michelangelo. There are no shortcuts."

Mikey waved her off, dismissively. "Since when did you take your job so seriously, Renet?"

"You're talking to the 35-year-old version of me. I'm very career driven at this point."

Michelangelo was dumbstruck. "I am? You are? Really? Are you pulling my leg?"

"I'm being completely serious," she said with a slow nod, satisfied to know that the anti-aging miracle creams she had brought back from the 27th century really did work.

"So, are we together in your present, or is this, like, you revisiting your past? Am I the best you've ever had?" he asked with his customary bravado.

"I can't tell you that either, now can I, Michelangelo?" she said with a wink.

"Well what's all this about then? Why chose me for a solo mission over Leo and Raph? Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to get me alone." Michelangelo practically purred the last part, as he raised his eye ridges up and down.

Renet looked at Mikey coyly. The truth was that in her current time, her Michelangelo had just been telling her about how difficult this point in his life was. She knew better than to mess with the timeline, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be there for him in her own unique way.

"Well, you are my favorite," she said, honestly. "And besides, I thought that maybe you could use somebody to talk to. I know that you sometimes have to hold the others together at the expense of your own happiness, and I'm sure you feel like you can't really tell them about how you're feeling because you don't want to upset them. But, that's not sustainable. You can't always be the guy who makes everyone laugh, or the shoulder that everyone cries on. You need to let your own emotions out too, Mikey. I just thought you could use a night away from the Lair, and I wanted you to know that I'm always here if you need someone to confide in. If you feel like you can't talk to your family, then you can always talk to me."

Mikey put his face down on the table and covered his head with his hands. "I miss Donnie!" he wailed.

His 'first date' was not going so well.

* * *

Leonardo had gone to bed early. Michelangelo on a date - he couldn't wrap his mind around it. He supposed that it was good that somebody was moving on, at least. Their lives had all been on hold for long enough. Leo set aside the book on the grieving process that April had given him and turned off his bedside lamp.

When he fell asleep, he dreamed that he was sitting on the porch swing at Casey's family farm. It was a moonless night, and mist was rolling off the woods, making him feel alone and lost in an abyss. Truthfully, it wasn't all that different from how he felt when he was awake. As he stared into the void, a form slowly materialized. "Donatello?" Leonardo wondered out loud.

The figure looked down at its own body, as though seeing it for the first time. It then continued its approach, before sitting wordlessly on the swing next to Leo. The unmistakable shade of olive green skin, the purple of his bandana, the calloused hands - It had to be Donatello. Still, Leo didn't move a muscle, not wanting to break the spell. He just continued swinging while he relished his brother's achingly familiar presence. "They tell me you're dead," Leo finally said, as he stared off into the mist.

"I am?" Donatello said in that unmistakable voice that Leo had missed so much. It always conveyed peace and gentleness, even when he was upset. "Well that kind of sucks."

Leo laughed. "It really sucks. I miss you, Donnie."

"I miss you too, Leo." The two swung quietly for a few moments before Donnie continued. "I suppose that explains why I'm back in this body, though. Are you dead as well?"

Leo smiled a little, "No. Supposedly, I'm still alive."

"That's good, anyway." Donnie nodded, fixing his gaze somewhere off in the distance.

"I guess." Sitting here like this, Leo wasn't so sure. "I think I'd rather be with you, though."

"Don't say that," Donnie pleaded, carrying more emotion in his voice than either of them had so far. "The others need you, especially if I'm...gone."

Leo had momentarily forgotten about the others. It felt like there was only he and Donnie in the world right now. "Yeah, you're probably right. What made you think I was dead, anyways?"

"If I am, then why wouldn't you be? And, how else could we be here together? Plus, I've been having these nightmares..." Donatello trailed off.

Leonardo examined his brother. Donatello looked exactly the same. Every scale and every scar was precisely how Leonardo remembered them. But, his eyes were completely different. What were once warm, keenly intelligent, chocolate-brown orbs were now wells of infinite pain and sadness. Leonardo couldn't stand to look at them, so he pulled his brother into his chest and held him there. "If I'm dead, I'm in hell, Leo," he whispered.

"That can't be, Donnie," Leo consoled. The thought of his pacifist brother being tormented for all of eternity was too much to take. The guy used a stick as a weapon because he couldn't bear the thought of irreparably harming anyone. "Hell is the last place you'd end up. Besides, this feels more like heaven to me. Don't you think?"

Donnie hugged Leonardo strong and hard before poking his head up. "This itself does feel pretty close to heaven, so I guess I probably couldn't have found my way here if I was in hell, right?"

"Yeah, Donnie. You're definitely not in hell," Leonardo reassured. Whose dream was this anyway?

A bewildered look came over Donatello. "Where are the others?" he asked. "Splinter, Raph and Mikey - are they okay?"

"Sure they are. They miss you, but they're okay. We all are."

"Why aren't they here, then?"

"I don't know. I don't even know why you're here. Who knows how dreams work?"

Donatello took on a professor-like demeanor that reminded Leo so much of how his brother had been in real life. "Dreams are often manifestations of the subconscious mind trying to work through difficult problems. Sometimes they mean nothing, but sometimes they are the brain's way of preparing you to face something that you're afraid of."

"Like saying goodbye to you?" Leo asked.

"Sure," Donnie answered. "I'm not so confident that this is merely a dream, though."

"Well, what else could it be?"

Donatello shook his head. "I don't know, but I don't dream anymore. There are nightmares, but no dreams."

"Well, it's my dream, not yours. Of course you're not dreaming. You're dead."

"Oh yeah. Why do I keep forgetting about that?" Donnie chuckled.

"I don't know. Maybe because I can't quite seem to accept it myself?"

"Makes sense. It's your subconscious."

Leonardo didn't know what else to say, so he just sat there enjoying his brother's presence and thinking. Why did Donnie keep mentioning nightmares and hell? Could it be that Leonardo's own unwillingness to let Donnie go was interfering with his brother's ability to rest in peace? Was that what Leo's real fear was? If his shortcomings in life had led to Donnie's death, was he afraid that his continued failures would keep both of them from moving on? "Do you want to rest, Donnie?" Leo asked.

Donnie didn't answer right away, but he did lean his head on Leo's shoulder. "Yeah. Rest would be nice. It feels long overdue."

"So, I should let you go? Let you move on?"

"If I'm dead, then yes." Donnie's solemn face then brightened with a smile. "Letting go of me doesn't mean that you'll forget me. You need to learn to look back with happiness rather than regret. If you have to let me go to do that, then go ahead and let me go."

Leonardo thought about that. "Maybe it would help if I said a proper goodbye? I never had a chance to in real life."

"Then say whatever you need to say now, Leo. This dream is probably your brain's way of giving you a chance to do just that."

"Well, if I could've said one last thing to you that night, I would've told you that you were the best brother a guy could ask for. I would've thanked you for everything you did to keep us safe and secure, all that stuff you built and all those nights you spent in the lab or garage instead of in bed. Most of all, I would've told you that I love you one last time."

"Oh, Leo. I knew all that. We all loved eachother more than life itself. I took that love with me to the grave, and I can still feel it, even now. If that's what's been bothering you than it really is time to let go."

"But, how?"

"How should I know? I'm the one who's dead, right? You can't still expect me to have all the answers."

Leonardo thought for a moment. "I think I just let you walk off into the mist."

Donnie looked skeptical "Like when the dead ball players disappeared into the corn in _Field of Dreams_?"

"Yeah." Leo pointed into the nothingness and took on the demeanor of a dog-trainer. "Go into the mist, Donnie!"

Donnie smiled playfully, and gripped the arm of the swing more firmly. "I don't want to! I'm happy here. Why don't you go into the mist?!"

Leonardo held firm, pleased that this moment didn't have to be as dreadful and sad as he was anticipating. "This is my dream. I started it on the swing, so I'm ending it on the swing. You go, Donnie! I'm letting you go, so go!"

"Jeez, Leo, you could at least offer to walk me there. This is probably the last time we'll be together, after all."

"No. It's more poetic this way. My subconsciousness, my terms."

"Fine, I'll go," Donnie said, begrudgingly. He got up and began scuffling off, before turning around with a devilish look in his eyes. "But first!" he yelled. Then he pounced on Leo, shaking the swing as he pulled him into a bear hug. "I love you, Leonardo."

It felt for all the world like a real hug. Leonardo didn't want to let go, but he knew that he had to. That was the point, after all. Still, they could stay together a few minutes longer. He squeezed the body in his arms a little tighter. "I love you too, Donatello."

* * *

Donatello awoke with a smile that felt out of place, and the impression that he had regained some little piece of himself that had been lost. He looked around in confusion for a moment, wondering why he'd had such a pleasant dream instead of one of his usual nightmares.

"Hey freak, what've you got to smile about?" one of the guards shouted.

Donnie usually ignored them, but he was in a good mood, so he made an exception. "I dreamed that I was dead," he answered honestly. "It was great."

 **As always, thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing. I know these last few chapters have been a little slow, but I promise they are building to something. See you next week!**


	12. Chapter 12

A wrench flew across the garage, a litany of swear words quickly followed.

"Calm down, Raphael," Casey placated. "You and I have got this."

"No, we don't!" Raphael roared. "The bike is one thing, but the hauler was always Donnie's department. We don't know what we're doing!"

"We've done okay so far," Casey reasoned. "Donnie has been gone for almost a year and this baby is still purring like a kitten."

"That's because we've gotten lucky. We've hardly left the Lair, so it's barely even been out of the garage. All we've had to handle so far has been oil changes."

"Well, this is just a simple belt change. We've just gotta follow Donnie's instructions and we'll be fine."

Raphael knew that he shouldn't get mad at Casey. He was just here to help, after all. But, as always, his bottled-up emotions were coming out as rage, and once he was fired up he couldn't stop himself. "It's not simple! There's nothing simple about it! He cobbled this engine together from god only knows how many different pieces."

"That's why he left the instructions," Casey pointed out. He was somewhat uncomfortable being the voice of reason. It was a role that he didn't often play in life.

Raphael threw a set of pliers at a coffee can full of screws, enjoying the sound of them crashing to the ground. "Don't ya get it, Casey? Don't make me say it!"

"Say what?" Casey said dumbly.

"I can't bear to read them!" Raphael shouted. "It's like he knew he'd be gone! Like he knew we'd need them! And when I read them, it's like hearing his voice again and it kills me. Did he always know, Casey? Did he always know he'd be gone and he just learned to live with it?"

Casey pushed a stray bolt around with his foot. "Maybe. After that whole Ultimate Drako thing and all."

This was the last thing Raphael needed to be reminded of - some nightmarish vision that had cast a dark shadow over Donatello's too-short life. A nightmarish vision that may be coming to fruition. "Don't say that Casey! This ain't that!"

"Well I sure as hell hope not. Wasn't I dead in that reality?"

"Yes, Casey, you were dead. Did you really not remember for sure? How could you be so casual about your own potential death?"

Casey took a page from Raphael's playbook and kicked the bolt across the garage. "Don never had the heart to tell me outright. You just confirmed my worst fears, though, so thanks for that," he moped.

"Well it don't matter cause this ain't that! Shredder is gone, and he's not coming back. Karai is even our friend now. Besides, Donnie pretty much drove it into our heads that we could never split apart. This family is in it together until the bitter end, no matter how awful things get."

"So we're agreed then, this ain't that," Casey offered.

"Right. You're gonna be here for a long time, Case-man."

Casey heaved out a long breath, not wanting to talk about it anymore. "Like in this very spot if we don't get this belt changed. Let me read Donnie's instructions. That way you won't have to hear his voice."

Casey snatched the large stack of papers from his friend's hands and began leafing through them. He could see why they were upsetting to Raph. The instructions themselves were straightforward, step-by-step guides that Donnie must have typed up on his computer. What made them hard to read were the occasional handwritten notes in the columns.

 _Rotten egg odors are usually caused by problems with the catalytic converter. Before you go to too much trouble, check to make sure that Mikey didn't hide actual rotten eggs again. Why does he think that's funny? He has to smell it too._

 _She pulls slightly to the right ever since we crashed her into that fake spaceship. Tie rods, control arms, and brakes are all fine. Might be nothing, but if it has been getting worse, maybe you could look into the bearings? Sorry I never found time._

Casey looked up from the directions to cast a glance at Raphael, who had grown unusually quiet. Raphael gave him a sad smile in return. "Can you read them in a Kermit the frog voice or something?" he requested. "That might help."

"No, but I'll do Sean Connery. I do a mean Sean Connery," Casey promised.

Casey did not, in actuality, do a mean Sean Connery. It was terrible, and he knew it, but it made them laugh as they muddled through their work and that was what was needed most of all.

That night, after Casey left, Raphael finally felt ready to open his letter. Even though Splinter had handed them out months ago, he was fairly certain that he was the first of his remaining brothers to read his. This seemed appropriate, as he had also been the first to completely give up hope of finding Donatello alive.

Leonardo still had good days and bad days. While he seemed to be growing more accepting of Donnie's death, his instinct now was to keep everybody holed up in the Lair so that he didn't lose another brother. On top of that, he seemed to have lost all faith in his leadership ability.

Michelangelo claimed that he knew Donnie was gone forever, but Mikey had always been a wide-eyed optimist. Although the two never talked about it, Raphael suspected that Mikey still harbored a secret kernel of hope, somewhere deep in his heart.

Raphael knew better. It wasn't simply because of his realistic, somewhat cynical outlook on life. It was because Donnie _couldn't_ be alive. The thought of his kindhearted, gentle brother being held against his will for all this time was too much to handle. Death was kinder - just a moment, then eternal nothingness. While his loved ones were suffering in his absence, Donnie himself was not suffering at all. He couldn't be.

Raphael sat in the Hauler with his feet on the instrument panel and a cold beer beside him in the cup holder. He might as well have been sitting in the heart of Donatello himself. How many hours had the two of them spent tinkering in this garage? Looking back, they were some of the best days of his life.

As it was, there were times that Raphael could swear Donnie was haunting him. Out of the corner of his eye, he would see his ghost leaning on the wall next to the tool chest. During battle, he sometimes swore would hear the humming whistle of a bo-staff clearing a path for them. When he snuck back into the Lair late at night, he would feel a tingling in his neck, anticipating a tap on the shoulder from his genius brother, who always stayed up in case he came home with any wounds that needed patching.

Raphael cracked the beer and brought it to his lips. "Let's hear what you have to say, Donatello."

 _Raphael,_

 _I bet you're mad at me. I'm sure that in your mind, it was supposed to be you that went first. Sorry to be such a glory hog!_

 _At least I hope I went out in a blaze of glory. It would be a real shame if your last memory of me involved me sobbing, wetting myself, and begging unsuccessfully for my life. For the purposes of this letter, let's go with the glory thing._

 _Back to my point, I bet you're mad. In your mind, you've always been the protector. You were supposed to be capable of stealing us back from the jaws of death itself. If you're reading this, something went wrong. You probably think you failed and knowing you, you're angry about it. These feelings are understandable, but the thing is, I'm sure if there was any way to save me, you would've found it. If there was a way you could've taken my place, you would've done so. But you can't, and I never would have wanted you to anyway. You're not the only one who can take one for the team._

 _And_ _please_ _remember that you are part of a team. More so, you a part of a family. They all love you just as much as you love them. We both know that you feel things deeply, and that your way of coping with the hard stuff is bottling it up. And yes, our lives are hard, so it's got to be a pretty big bottle. Still, it's not going to be big enough to hold me. You'll need others to help you with that._

 _Maybe I flatter myself, but I always thought that I was the one you were closest to. I always thought that if there was anyone you talked to about the tough stuff, it was me. You can still do that. If there is any way for me to be there and listen, I promise you I'll move heaven and earth to find it._

 _But, just to be on the safe side, you should learn to talk to the others as well. Sensei, Leonardo, and Michelangelo love you just as much as I do. Don't shut them out. April and Casey love you too, and I'm sure that they'll want to be there for you guys as much as possible. Don't keep putting your feelings into the bottle. Too much contained pressure has a nasty way of leading to explosions._

 _I want to close this letter by thanking you. You were my biggest advocate, always looking out for me and sticking up for me. You_ _always_ _had my back, and it meant the world to me. I always knew that I was safe when you were there beside me. Our circle is small, but strong, and you're the strongest out of all of us. I love you, Raphael._

 _-Donnie_

The last reaction Raphael expected was laughter, but strangely, laughing was exactly what he found himself doing. It was the 'blaze of glory' part that had done him in. There had been a blaze, alright - a literal dumpster fire. Looking back, maybe that was appropriate. Donatello always did love digging through trash, and while it may not have been a blaze of glory that took him, it was certainly a raging inferno - a fitting tribute to a soul that burned brightly and was gone far too soon.

"Oh man, Donnie," Raphael said to the ghost of his brother as he wiped away a tear. "You always did find a way of getting yourself into strange predicaments, didn't you?" Raph practically felt his dead brother's disapproving gaze. "Well, you said that I could still talk to you, didn't you?" he defended. "Who are you to be picky about the topic?"

Of course, Donnie didn't answer. He didn't always answer in life, either though. Always the quietest brother, Donnie had a way of just being there that made Raph feel better. He didn't push like Leo or Mikey. He would just subtly offer a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to lean on. That was why the two of them had gotten along so well.

Overall, Raphael felt like he was doing a pretty good job of handling things. He'd actually been suppressing his anger quite nicely for the most part, and he was even learning to talk about his emotions. He and Mikey had grown closer, and he didn't butt heads with Leonardo nearly as much as he used to. Leo was struggling more than the rest of them, and Raph understood that and didn't want to make things harder on him.

It would only last for so long, though. He already snuck out from time to time, but if Leo kept them cooped up down here much longer he was eventually going to snap. Karai had the Foot under control, but there were still other threats to be dealt with, and there was still the matter of getting revenge for Donnie. Raphael would hold out as long as he could, but he was going to return to vigilantism sooner rather than later. The only question was whether he did it by himself, or as part of a team.

* * *

Being locked up for close to a year while being physically and mentally abused would make anybody a little crazy. Fortunately, Donnie was smart, and he had always been something of a thoughtful, solitary creature. He had rich internal life, and could pull himself inward and lose himself in it when he really needed to.

Over the long months of imprisonment, he had taught himself a number of tricks designed to maintain his sanity. He made lists and solved equations in his mind, catalogued all of his memories, and created mental schematics for new machines, both realistic and fantastic.

Recently, his favorite pastime was working on new episodes of 'As the prison cell turns.' One day he thought to himself, 'what would Mikey do in this situation?' and this was his answer. It was largely inspired by Master Splinter's beloved 'stories.' Some might see it as a sign of growing insanity, but Donnie saw it as a way of keeping things interesting, and preventing himself from going mad with boredom.

Although the guards looked basically the same and were difficult to distinguish in their uniforms, Donnie was fairly certain that they all maintained the same positions. There were six guard spots - two on each wall, except for the rear. They appeared to work eight-hour shifts, so he assumed that there were a total of 18 guards in and out of the prison on any given day.

He'd named them all, alphabetically A through R, based on their position and their shift. He had created elaborate backstories for each of them, and was always working on new plotlines. While he mainly kept the storylines to himself, he couldn't resist the occasional urge to run his mouth off. If he complained about his treatment, he was punished, but if he ranted and raved like a crazy person he could more or less get away with it. It was like a little inside joke that nobody else knew about.

This morning, 'Greg' was a little rougher than usual during the morning hose-down, and Donnie decided to say something about it. "Come on, Greg, you know it's not me you're mad at here. You're just upset that nobody wanted to try the seven-layer dip that you brought to Aaron's Super Bowl party."

"Stop calling me Greg," Greg shouted as he turned the hose on Donnie's face. "Better yet, don't talk to me at all!"

"It's May, freak!" Hikaru growled. "The Super Bowl was months ago."

"Oh Hikaru, you know how hard he worked on that," Donnie sputtered as he coughed out water. "You're his best friend, you should have tried it. I know you don't like cilantro, but I bet you could hardly taste it."

"The freak is talking gibberish again," Greg yelled. Hikaru activated the shock collar and gave Donnie a low-level zap. It didn't feel good with all the water covering his body, but it was still worth it. Donnie had grown so used to pain that a little more hardly mattered at this point. Staying sane mattered, though. He thought that Mikey would have been proud of him, if he were around to witness any of this.


	13. Chapter 13

Flickering firelight lit up the chilly night. Coyotes howled somewhere in the distance. Otherwise, April and Casey seemed to have the farm to themselves. April sat by the fire, turning an envelope in her hands, contemplating whether to open it. Donnie had always been full of surprises. He had left so many inventions and improvements behind, but they were all known commodities by now. This was the last surprise that he had in store - the last thing that he would ever give to her.

She smiled as she remembered the many endearing mannerisms of her dear friend. She had always secretly adored the way he hummed and sang along to the radio when he thought no one could hear him. He had such a beautiful voice. How many times had she snuck into the garage when she heard the sound of it echoing down the hall, to find only his green feet sticking out from beneath a vehicle and tapping along to the tune? He always stopped as soon as he realized he had an audience, so sometimes she just practiced her stealth and listened quietly for as long as she could.

That soft voice of his could also somehow cut through any amount of craziness and chaos to calm everyone around him. The fact that Donnie was the quietest one made what he had to say carry more weight. He was always calm, cool and collected, even when the world was falling apart around him. He was always the voice of reason in the stormiest of times. If he was talking, you knew he had a plan, and that everything would turn out alright.

April thought about the way Donnie lit up when he was interested in something or when he was showing off his work, and the strength of his arms when he pulled her in for a hug. She remembered his warm, often tired eyes as they kept watch over an ailing brother, his all-encompassing compassion and his gentle nature, the curiosity that defined him, and never seemed to be satisfied. She wasn't ready to give him up. She wasn't ready for his last surprise, and she didn't want to read his final words to her.

But, it had been almost an entire year. In her heart, she knew he was gone. She had known from the beginning, really. And, he wanted her to read this. She owed him that much. 'Now or never,' she thought, as she held her breath and tore open the envelope. She unfolded the paper reverently, and couldn't help but smile when her eyes fell upon his neat, careful handwriting.

 _April,_

 _Growing up, Splinter always taught us to fear humans and avoid them at all costs. You were the first person that we befriended, and I'm thankful every day that we did. It's so hard to imagine a world without you now! You're our big sister, our protector, our adviser, and our partner in crime. Most of all, you're my best friend._

 _I love my family with my whole heart, but I was always a little lonely before you came along. You were the first person I met who shared my love of science and technology. You were the first person who I could speak to about my designs and ideas who actually seemed to share my passion. You made me feel so much less alone. It meant the world to me, April._

 _My wish for you is that you never forget how awesome you are. You've kicked butt in so many different timelines and dimensions. Every version of you is a force to be reckoned with. You possess such a brilliant mind and such a kind disposition. You're strong and beautiful, inside and out. You've done so many amazing things, and I guarantee you'll keep doing them._

 _Thank you so much for everything that you've done for us, and everything that I know you will continue to do. With all the amazing things you could have done with your life, you chose to spend so much of it down in the sewers with us. You must be a little bit crazy, but it's the best kind of crazy._

 _Sometimes lab rats like us forget that life is about more than just the joys of invention and discovery. Life is meant to be shared and celebrated. I'm so happy that you shared some of your precious life and spirit with me. I hope that you look back at the memories and smile. After all, smiling is what you always made me do!_

 _Love always, Donatello_

"Aww," said April, who had tears in her eyes as she hugged the letter to her chest. "I love you too, Donnie." She then read the letter out loud for Casey, her voice breaking on a few lines. "Why can't you write letters like that?!" She said teasingly, hitting him playfully with the envelope.

"Oh jeez, pressure is on now. Let's just get to mine." Casey opened his envelope in one swift move.

 _Casey,_

 _My brothers and even April like to say that you and I are opposites, but I've never seen it that way. When you get right down to it, we're alike in the most important ways. We stand up for what's right. We look out for the little guy. We fight with all we've got. We put our friends and family first. I'm honored to be like you, and I hope that you never change._

 _I know that you'd never abandon us, even though it can be dangerous to count us as your allies. I know that you're with my brothers now, looking out for them. Make no mistake, my family needs you. Getting them to talk is tough sometimes, but I know you're up for the job. After all, you managed to befriend Raphael!_

 _You and I may not have spent the most time together, but I always looked forwards to working with you in the garage, and some of my best memories took place at your family's farmhouse. You always knew how to keep things fun when life got too serious. It was often much needed, so thanks for that._

 _I know that you don't much care for sentimentality, but there's something that I need you to know. I may have started my life with three brothers, but I ended it with four._

 _-Donatello_

"Ha-ha he loved me more!" Casey said, in a transparent attempt to conceal his emotions.

"He did not! Yours doesn't even use the word love! Mine says 'love always,'" April bragged.

"He said I was his brother!" Casey smiled.

"Sister _and_ best friend," April said as she pointed at her letter. "I win! Just admit it, Casey!"

"I'm not backing down. Dudes just don't talk to each other like that! If you knew how to translate dude language into regular language, you would see that mine is better."

"Dude language?" April repeated skeptically.

Casey grabbed April and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her off towards the farmhouse porch. "Stand down or face the consequences."

"I'll never surrender, Jones!"

Gales of laughter echoed through the previously somber night. That's the funny thing about life, it can turn around in a heartbeat. Good times can turn terrible, but the opposite can happen as well. Good or bad, each day is a gift that is meant to be celebrated.

 **I know it's short. There's a pretty big tonal shift in the next chapter, so I decided to cut it off here. Coming up – Don hits the one-year anniversary of his kidnapping and Pseudo-Shredder has had enough of waiting for him to come around. Things at the Lair start to head south as well, and Michelangelo opens his letter. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews!**


	14. Chapter 14

Donatello was awoken by a kick to the ribs, a few of which had recently been re-broken. He let out a sharp exhale as the familiar pain ripped through him, and opened his hazy eyes to see Pseudo-Shredder looming over him. "Do you know what today is?" he growled. "It's our anniversary, freak."

"Happy anniversary," Donnie moaned.

"Not so much, I'm afraid. An entire year now, you have been in my possession, and yet here we are, still playing the same game. So, tell me, turtle, do you wish to voluntarily join my employ?"

Donnie struggled to sit up. His injuries made it impossible to stand, but that didn't mean that he needed to take things lying down. "A year? It's been a year?" he asked in disbelief. While it felt in some ways as though he had been here forever, it was nevertheless hard to believe that a whole year had passed. One full turn around the sun, while life outside these four walls continued as usual. How could he have been in the same place for so long?

The man that towered over him leaned in and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, a year that you will never get back. I'm another year stronger. What are you?"

Donnie took a moment to formulate his response. "I'm still me. I'd consider that to be an accomplishment." He said it proudly, having worked hard not to lose himself in all of this.

"Well that brings me to the purpose of my visit. You're only 'you' because I have allowed you to be, just as your brothers are still free because I have allowed it. I didn't want to risk damaging your priceless mind, Donatello. But, after a year, it's becoming clear that you won't be submitting to my wishes voluntarily. Therefore, I'm upping my game. I will hunt your precious family down, one by one. If you still continue to resist, even as they fall beneath my blade, I will warp your mind so badly that you won't even remember who you are. I only need your intelligence, not your personality, not your memories, not anything else that makes you 'you.' I will turn you into a processing unit - a living computer of sorts. I know how to do it, _I think_. I've been reluctant to try because I did not wish to risk outright killing you, but at this point you leave me little choice. So, what do you say. Will you submit willingly? Keep in mind that this is your last chance."

This did indeed change things. Donnie had resisted so far because the only one being harmed was him. He would never risk his family. Even after having gone a full year without their company, they still meant more to him than life itself. But he had to believe in them, and their ability to save themselves. His family knew exactly now to deal with nut-jobs like these. He had to keep fighting, or he would become the villain, which would be a fate worse than death.

When he said it, he said it firmly. "No."

"So be it, then," Pseudo-Shredder replied. He then delivered a high-setting shock to Donnie's collar, instantly rendering him unconscious.

* * *

Michelangelo had prepared breakfast for dinner. It was always Donatello's favorite aside from pizza, so it seemed fitting to make it today.

Donatello tended to stay up late working and then sleep through breakfast. He usually only had time to roll out of bed and grab a quick cup of coffee and maybe some fruit or a granola bar before training, so he inevitably missed out on anything hot in the morning. Whenever Michelangelo had sensed that Donnie was down in the dumps, or perhaps just in need of a pick-me-up, he would cook up a hot breakfast buffet for dinner that night. The others were never crazy about two breakfasts in one day, so Donnie knew that it was something that Mikey did just for him - an unspoken mark of love and devotion. It never failed to lift his spirits, and Donnie always made it a point to seek Mikey out and trap him in a bear hug afterwards. Mikey's heart stirred remembering that.

"Here's to Donnie, wherever he is," Mikey said as he wistfully raised his glass of orange juice into the air.

Leonardo began to lift his glass and return the toast. Before he could, Raphael swatted both glasses away, sending them flying into the wall, where they shattered into pieces. Still not satisfied, he overturned the table completely, then stormed out of the room, cursing. The remaining members of his family were left in his wake, still seated amidst the wasted food and broken dishes. It was perfectly symbolic of the turn their lives had taken a year ago today.

"What are we supposed to do? Not mention him at all!" Leonardo yelled to his brother's retreating back.

After recovering his senses, Michelangelo simply got up and left without a word, ignoring Leonardo and Splinter as they called out to him. He understood why Raphael was mad, and he could sympathize. They were no closer to finding Donatello's killers now than they were on the night it happened. They'd spent the first part of this past year desperately searching for answers, and the second part licking their wounds. They had nothing to show for all their suffering, and the recent inactivity was doing a number on Raphael.

But, Donnie would've considered it an accomplishment for them to have made it this far together. He would've been happy that they were healing, and happy that no one else was hurt, lost, or dead. He would've wanted them to remember the good times they had when they were all together, instead of focusing on the bad that had followed. That's just how Donnie was. He cared about others more than himself.

Michelangelo had wanted to do a little something to celebrate his brother's life, but given Raphael's mood, it seemed like a change of plans was needed. He sought out the refuge of his bedroom, and his eyes fell upon the unopened letter that he had given a place of honor on his desk. He grabbed it with a resigned sigh, and finally broke the seal. It was going to be just him and Donnie tonight.

 _Michelangelo,_

 _Life has its wonderful moments, as well as its terrible ones. Out of all of us, you were always the best at turning the bad times into good ones. It's a rare gift, and I know that it isn't as easy as you make it look. If anything, it's the hardest role of all to play on this team._

 _I know we like to tease you about being immature, silly, or annoying, but we both know that your lightheartedness serves a very important purpose. It keeps me from losing myself in my work. It keeps Raph from losing himself in his anger, and it keeps Leo from taking himself too seriously. It keeps us together, sane, and laughing._

 _I get a lot of credit around here for being the go-to guy when something needs fixing. And sure, I can repair a toaster or rebuild an engine with the best of them. I cannot, however, fix people. That has always been your job, and you've always done it well. You never get the credit for it that you deserve, so I'm giving it to you now. I'm also going to go ahead and apologize for any time that I may have chased you away or been too hard on you. I know I could get cranky, but that was when I needed you most. In the end, you never let me down. I just hope I didn't say anything to hurt you along the way._

 _You must have your work cut out for you now, with me being gone. I hope that you don't resent me for that. I'm sure you know that I never would've left you guys if I had any choice in the matter, but life doesn't always deal you the hand you were hoping for. I think that we are all well aware of that._

 _If there is such a thing as a soul, and we could look at the world before us and take our pick of whatever life we wanted, I don't think that any of us would have chosen these strange, mutated forms. I don't think that we would have chosen to grow up hidden away in the sewers. I don't think that we would have chosen the isolation and daily struggle that our lifestyles bring._

 _However, I_ _do_ _think that we would have chosen each other. I know that if I had my pick of a family, I would have taken you guys every time, no questions asked. Though we don't express it often enough, I believe that we all feel the same way. What might have been a miserable existence turned out to be perfect, simply by way of living it together. And, the laughter you provide is a major component of that life, and one of the most rewarding._

 _You are that glue that holds us all together and makes it all fun. You turn life into an adventure. Even in the hard times, you do it intuitively, because it's just your nature. Maybe things are difficult now, but keep doing your job and they'll get better again. I love you, Michelangelo, and I was so blessed to have you in my life. We all are. Never change._

 _Love, Donatello._

Michelangelo ran a hand down his face before carefully folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. Donatello had been right about his role on the team and how difficult it was. The words had been very pretty. But, Donnie conveyed a confidence in him that Mikey doubted that his brother really had.

The problem was that in that alternate reality that Donnie was so scarred by, that version of Michelangelo had failed. In Donnie's absence, the family had broken apart. Whatever the other Michelangelo had done, it hadn't been enough. If it had happened there, it could happen here.

How was Michelangelo supposed to keep this family together, let alone laughing? Leonardo had gone from desperate and reckless, to frightened and conservative, hiding everyone he treasured below ground so that he didn't experience any more devastating losses. Raphael was a ticking time-bomb ready to unleash his fury on the world around them in the name of revenge. What was Mikey supposed to do with that? Sometimes there isn't enough glue in the world to hold together what is destined to break.

* * *

Raphael continued his rampage straight out of the lair and through the sewers. Nobody had dared to stop him, or try to catch him. It was a small miracle that it had taken him this long to explode, and they all knew it.

For a year, a whole year, he had tiptoed around his family. He had been there for Michelangelo whenever he needed comfort and reassurance. He had helped talk Leonardo back down to reality, and he had even put up with all his new rules designed to keep the family safe. He stayed below ground unless accompanied by his brothers, Master Splinter, April or Casey. As per Leonardo's orders, there was always a chaperone present when anyone left the lair. It was ludicrous! Donnie had been surrounded by family when he died, and they had been totally helpless to save him. As far as Raphael was concerned, when your time is up, it's up.

Raphael was the most mechanically-inclined of the remaining brothers. Granted, being mechanically-inclined and technologically-inclined were two very different things. No one seemed to appreciate that, though. Sure, he had kept the vehicles more or less intact, but somehow that meant that he was responsible for the security system as well? He had no idea what he was doing. Even April wasn't all that able to help. But, Leo was so insistent upon hiding away that he placed more importance on the lair's security than ever, and yet, it was Raphael that had to struggle through its maintenance. Leonardo had just washed his hands of it entirely.

Since when did he take this kind of crap lying down? Since when did he stay hidden like a scared animal just because someone told him to? It had been a year since Donnie had died. It was time to stop cowering and deferring to every stupid order he was given without questioning it.

Raphael froze in place, chilly water rippling around his ankles. He knew exactly where he was - a couple of miles from the lair, right below one of the areas they commonly patrolled, back when patrols could be considered 'common.' It was fairly close to April and Casey's place. While he knew they were still at the farmhouse, he needed to get out of this damn sewer. It was making him claustrophobic. Purple Dragon territory was nearby. It couldn't hurt to check on his friends' apartment and make sure that everything was intact. If he had to crack a couple of heads along the way, so be it.

Raphael looked behind him, in the direction of his home and his family. He looked towards the manhole above, in the direction of fresh air, adventure and freedom. A year and a day ago, the choice wouldn't have been so complex. A year and a day ago, he snuck out all the time. It was a part of who he was. That part of him had disappeared along with Donnie. But, he couldn't be this version of himself anymore. He was never meant to be a caged animal. He was meant to be free. Raphael threw himself forward and climbed the ladder with fierce determination that had been dormant for too long. He cast the manhole cover aside, and was greeted with a burst of fresh air.

His decision was made. Consequences be damned.

 **Thanks for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Guess it's been a while since I wrote a disclaimer. You'll be shocked to hear that I still don't own TMNT.**

Now that the one-year grace period was over, things at the prison had taken a turn for the worse. Donatello watched in silent horror as a syringe penetrated one scaly arm and the plunger was depressed. A vial full of who-knows-what shot into his already weakened system. Nobody told him what it was or what to expect. He didn't know if this was this some new way to torture him, or something else altogether. He wasn't about to ask, so he just waited for whatever it was to kick in. He'd have his answers soon enough.

Pseudo-Shredder and his guards waited patiently as well. They hadn't yet been able to find Donatello's family, so this is how they would make him cooperate - chemically. They had already tested their methods on less valuable subjects, and they had yielded positive results. Naturally, it was impossible to know if there would be a difference in how the drug reacted within the body of the mutated creature before them. Regardless, the freak was clearly not going to cooperate on his own, so it was time to begin taking chances. The worst case scenario was that he died, but if he wouldn't submit to their commands, he was useless to them anyway.

Donatello began to feel as though his blood was boiling. The sensation started at the injection site, and slowly spread up and down his arm, until moving to his chest. He broke out in a sweat. His heart beat faster as the inevitable panic set in, although he tried not to let it show outwardly. The rapid pace only made the unknown chemical spread faster, through his other arm, down to his legs, and finally past the blood-brain barrier.

He wasn't sure if he was having a seizure, or if it was his imagination. Every muscle screamed out, and he was suddenly so dizzy that he couldn't tell up from down. Whatever was happening, he seemed to be losing control of his body. Eventually, the feeling of spinning and overheating was replaced with a numbing paralysis. Don's chin dropped to his plastron, although it was not a voluntary move on his part. Try though he may, he couldn't lift his head at all, nor could he move any other part of his body. He could see and hear, but otherwise, he was locked in.

His mental faculties remained completely intact. Despite the terror and the feeling of utter helplessness, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the effect that his captors had been intending. It seemed that they would have wanted the opposite - to affect his brain and not his body.

One of the guards poked him. "Is it alive?" he asked.

Pseudo-Shredder stepped forward and took his pulse. "Yes," he answered. He then lifted Donatello's head and pried open one of his eyes. "Whether it is conscious or not remains to be seen." Pseudo-Shredder unsheathed a gauntlet, stepped back, and cruelly sliced it across Donnie's left shoulder. Donatello was unable to flinch or cry out, which was a blessing, as he still tried to show as little weakness as possible around these guys. "I need the wretched thing to be conscious for the next step to work," Pseudo-Shredder complained.

"Unless you want to call in a medic, maybe you should just assume it's aware of its surroundings and proceed anyway. It can't hurt, right?" one of the guards suggested.

"True. Release the chains." Donatello fell to the ground in a heap, only to be propped up again by the very hands of his greatest enemy. Donnie's chin was roughly grabbed and he was forced to look directly at his captor. "Donatello, blink if you can hear me." Donnie couldn't have blinked if he wanted to, which he didn't. "Tape open its eyes," Pseudo-Shredder ordered. After the deed was done, he leaned in closer. Donnie sort of wished his eyes would roll back in his head so that he wouldn't have to endure whatever was coming, but they didn't, and he couldn't make them.

So, he took advantage of the rare opportunity that he had been afforded. He had never been this close to the helmeted face before. He drank in every detail, in the hopes that it would help him later, somehow. He committed everything to memory, but most of all, he focused on the eyes. They were generally disguised by shadows, but as close as the two were now, Donnie could see that they were green. Green is the rarest eye color. Between that and the unusual accent, some distinguishing characteristics were beginning to make themselves known.

But, there was no time to think about that now. Donatello had to focus on what they were saying. It would have been comical if it wasn't so terrifying. They seemed to be trying to hypnotize him using methods best left to cartoon characters. At least they were using his name instead of calling him 'freak.' It was pretty rare that he heard the sound of his own name these days.

Pseudo-Shredder and his minions attempted to elicit a physical response from Donatello, which of course was impossible. When it became clear that he wouldn't or couldn't respond, they moved onto placing suggestions. It was interesting to hear what they had planned, which was essentially just more of the same - commanding that he should obey them, and such. When they were done, they left him sitting there, paralyzed. Donnie could only hope that the effects of the drug were temporary and that no permanent damage was done.

Donnie was unable to stop his body from slowly tipping over. While laying awkwardly on the ground like a discarded plaything, he had plenty of time to think about whether he should pretend that the hypnosis had worked, or continue resisting. It was clear that the Pseudo-Shredder had access to a wide variety of resources. It was also clear that he didn't know how to best use all of them, and that a lot of what he did was guesswork. Someone in his organization was capable of producing the drug, but they hadn't been able to perfect it. It was also safe to say that this was the same group that had generated that signal a year ago, for whatever reason. Donnie had no way of knowing if it had achieved its purpose, although he did recall that it had disabled his phone.

They had plenty of raw material, but they couldn't refine it. There were clearly some scientifically inclined people in the group, but they weren't quite good enough. That's where Donatello was expected to come in.

* * *

It was so early that nobody else would be up and about. Splinter had always preferred to stay in his room meditating until breakfast was ready. Michelangelo was never a morning turtle, and Raphael was always up too late to be up early. Donatello had been even less of a morning turtle than Mikey, but it hadn't been exactly uncommon for Leonardo to wake up in the predawn hour to find his brainiac brother still awake and working in the lab. That's where Leo was headed now.

He turned the key to the padlock as quietly as he could. It had been him that insisted on locking this place up in the first place. Walking by it everyday had been slowly ripping his heart out. He saw the same thing happening to the others, although nobody ever wanted to talk about it. So he closed the door and locked it, as surely as he locked away the part of his mind that insisted that Donatello was still out there somewhere, and as surely as he closed off the large piece of his heart that had died along with his brother.

The lab had also died along with Donnie. It had always been lively and vibrant, just like its resident engineer. Quiet now and forevermore, it was full of partially finished creations. They might have changed the world, or even saved it someday, but no one other than Donnie would have ever been able to bring them to life. To anyone else, they were just piles of garbage and disparate parts, but in his capable hands they could have been miracles.

Leonardo turned on the long-dark overhead lights and listened to their dirge-like hum as they flickered back to life. Every footstep sent dust fluttering into the air and dancing upwards into their artificial glow. This place was a tomb. It was a temple, and the closest thing to a grave that his brother would ever have.

He ran his fingers along the workbench in quiet contemplation. How many wonders had his brother built here? How many nights had it served as his pillow? A few tools still laid exactly where Donnie had last put them down more than a year ago. Nobody felt right about touching them. It was only fitting that Donatello's hands would be the last to hold them.

Donatello - Memories of him swirled everywhere, just like the particles of dust that Leo was stirring up.

Donnie quietly stitching Raphael back together after a particularly rough clash with the Foot.

Donnie hovering near the 'secret' coffee pot that he thought nobody knew about, waiting until he was free to make his move.

Donnie's excitement when he showed off a new invention - that sparkle he got in his eyes.

Donnie pulling him into a hug when he really needed one.

Donnie's sharp sense of humor, strong hands and gentle smile.

Leo missed his brother. He still needed him. He'd never stop needing him, but Donnie had nothing left to give. He'd burned so brightly in the short time that he had in this earth, but now that light was gone. All that was left were the memories, enough of them to last for whatever remained of Leo's days. That, and this letter. Leo would never have opened it of his own volition, but there were things that Donnie wanted him to hear. How could he continue to deny his brother that?

Leo took a breath and broke the seal. He smiled when he unfolded the letter and saw his brother's familiar handwriting once more.

 _Leonardo,_

 _I'm sorry that you're reading this. I'm sorry that I'm not there, and for all that you must be going through. Whatever happened, I'm sure you blame yourself, but I wish with all of my heart that you wouldn't. I have never followed you blindly. I have walked through this life with my eyes wide open. Whatever happened is on me, not on you or anyone else._

 _Things won't be easy for any of you. It's easier for me to write this letter and imagine myself to be gone than it is to imagine having to move forward without one of my brothers. The thought of having to do that is unbearable. We have nothing without each other, and losing someone you love is like losing a piece of your very soul. I know, because I saw the three of you die once before, and then again and again in my nightmares. Even knowing that the future I saw could be changed, I was still haunted by your deaths. A loss like that tears you apart._

 _I wish that there was something more that I could say or do to help you through this, but I can't. I never found any magic answers. The best I could do is write you guys these letters, in the hopes that I could make you see yourselves through my eyes, because I'd like to think that I always saw the best in you all. Knowing how easily you can be lost, and how quickly life can slip away makes you realize how precious and fragile everything really is. Every day is a blessing, made all the better if you have loved ones beside you._

 _That's why you have to be strong for the others. I may not be there with you anymore, but they still are, and they need you now more than ever. If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that our family needs to stick together. As the leader, it's your burden to ensure that happens, no matter how hard it may be. You have to keep fighting for them, even if it means fighting with them. I know you're strong enough to do it. You're strong enough to do anything. Please keep reminding yourself of that. You've never given up on anything, and you've never failed at anything important. You'll make it through this, too._

 _I owe you more thank you's than I can count, and certainly more than I can cover here. Thanks for being the excellent leader and big brother that you've always been. Thanks for believing in us, and encouraging us, and making all of the hard decisions so that we don't have to. Thanks for your dedication, the late night talks, the advice and the memories. Thanks for all of those times that you pulled me away from a project to spend time with the family. Even though I might have protested back then, in the end, those were the moments that mattered most._

 _I love you, Leonardo. Love is stronger than the grave. I'll always be right beside you._

 _-Donatello_

Leonardo looked around the abandoned laboratory and slowly shook his head. He resisted the urge to crumple the letter up and toss it somewhere. 'Strong enough to do anything. Ha. I wasn't strong enough to save you.' There was no ghost of Donnie over his shoulder. As sacred as this place may be, no spirits resided here. There were memories and missed chances, but nothing more.

Leonardo was alone, in spite of himself. They all were, really - together but alone.

Splinter meditated more and more. He seemed to be seeking answers that he would never find. Getting over the loss of a child is the hardest thing in the world to do, and Splinter was so old. Despite his age, he had never seemed fragile - until now, that is.

Raphael snuck out and played at being a vigilante. Leonardo pretended not to notice. He knew that his brother was suffocating down here in the sewers. He didn't want to fight with him about something that he apparently needed to do for the purposes of self-preservation. While he didn't agree with Raphael's choices, and he worried for his brother, he didn't want to be his jailer. At least if something happened up there, Raphael's blood wouldn't be on his hands like Donnie's was. Hard as it was, he had to let his brothers make their own choices. Another loss might still kill him, but maybe that would be more merciful in some ways. Leo didn't want to die, not at all. He wanted to be strong for the others. But, struggling with these feelings and fears was just so difficult.

Michelangelo was trying to keep them all together. He really was. They all were, in their own ways. However, Mikey didn't want to burden anyone with his own troubled feelings. Leo knew he should do something about that, but he wasn't strong enough right now. He knew that if he tried, he would just break down, and Mikey would end up comforting him instead. More and more, Mikey had turned to time-hopping with Renet as a way of escaping their own depressing reality. Leo worried about this almost as much as he worried about Raph's adventures. Still, at least Mikey was making new memories instead of living in the past.

Days passed much the same, but the pain never lessened. Leonardo knew that he should heed Donnie's words, that he should think of each day as a blessing, that he should bask in the love of his family and let them carry each other through these dark times. He was working on it. It was just so hard - the hardest thing that he had ever had to do.

Leo sighed and left the lab. He turned the lights off and locked the door behind him, vowing never to open it again.

 **Thank you so much for reading, and thanks to all who have favorited, followed and reviewed. It is greatly appreciated!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Here's a dark chapter for Black Friday. Sorry, but it had to be done.**

Donatello lay on the grimy floor in a heap, concentrating on his breathing. The center of his shell was partially caved in, semi-connected fragments stabbing him with each exhale, his bruised lungs burning with each inhale. His wrists were mercilessly shackled together and pinned beneath him, not that he could've moved anyways. He'd been in this state for a few days now.

He should've known better than to attempt to trick his captors into thinking the hypnosis had worked. He'd always been a terrible liar, so he knew he was taking a large risk. It had seemed worth the chance at the time. He had thought that if he played along, maybe they would let their defenses down and he would finally have a chance at escape. At the time, even a remote chance of freedom had seemed worth the risk. He had done well for a little while, but then they decided to test him for real.

What they had ultimately ordered him to do was downright impossible. They had placed a katana in his hands and asked him to kill a guard of his choice. As much as he had grown to hate everyone here, Donatello was no killer. He couldn't let himself become one now. They'd stripped everything from him - his family, his comfort, his dignity. All that he had left were his core values, the most fundamental pieces of himself, that made him who he was. Clinging to them was all that was keeping him sane. He couldn't lose them, not ever.

They must have suspected that the drug hadn't worked and that he had been faking. They knew they had him cornered. Donatello dropped the sword and raised his hands as far as he could, in the hopes that they would consider it a surrender and show him mercy. He should've known better than to expect that, as well. With the muscle atrophy and injuries he had endured, he wasn't able to fight back when they closed in on him. Furthermore, he was still shackled, so he stood no chance of escaping any of their blows. He stood even less of a chance of escaping the studded mace that had almost killed him.

At least they'd left him on the floor after dealing him that nearly fatal damage. He was pretty sure that would have killed him outright if they had hung him back up on the wall. As it was, he needed to actively force himself to keep breathing through the pain, forcing air into his crushed and barely functional midsection. That vital life-sustaining function that is supposed to happen automatically was now an active effort. He was afraid to even fall asleep.

The good news was that he wasn't paralyzed. He could feel everything. Everything. 'See that, there's always a bright side,' Donnie thought to himself. There's always a reason to keep breathing.

Keep breathing.

It would've been so easy to just let go. It would've been a blessing really, to not have to feel this anymore, to not be in such terrible pain, to not be so lonely, to not have to worry about becoming a pawn in a tyrant's army. There had to be something better waiting in the afterlife. Donnie was familiar enough with spiritual matters to believe in one. He had spent time on the spiritual plane. He didn't know for sure if there was life after death, but he did believe that he had a soul, and that there had to be something else waiting on the other side. Nevertheless, something told him to go on. Something told him that his work in this world wasn't finished, and that he would make it through this just like he had made it through everything that came before it.

At the moment, surviving and staying sane was a bigger challenge than ever, but he knew that when he was overwhelmed it was best to take things one step at a time instead of worrying about the big picture. So right now he simply battled to keep breathing.

* * *

Raphael said goodnight to Casey and hopped onto the fire escape. He was met with warm, midsummer night air and a gentle misting rain - perfect turtle weather. While it was late by most people's standards, it was still early by Raphael's, so he decided that a rooftop run through Purple Dragon Territory was in order.

He'd been doing this for weeks now, and nothing bad had happened. Despite all of the fear and concern, he hadn't been snatched in the night or injured in any way whatsoever. It felt good to be making a difference again, to be something other than a person in mourning. This is what he was always meant to be - a fighter. Maybe he was bending Leonardo's rules, but not by much. He stayed with Casey most of the time. He just took the long way home.

Raphael breathed harder as he increased his speed. Each leap was a little more powerful, leaving him airborne a little longer. Adrenaline rushed through him, heightening his senses.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he was being tracked from below. He could feel the eyes on him as surely as he could feel the raindrops trickling down the seam where his back met his shell. A corner of his mouth lifted ever so subtly. If someone wanted trouble they could go ahead and bring it. He wasn't about to deny them.

Instinctively, he headed away from the lair, and out of dragon territory. As much as he would welcome a fight, he wasn't about to risk anyone finding their home. Raphael knew from extensive experience that if it was the dragons tracking him, they wouldn't leave their safe-zone and risk a turf war. Raphael's curiosity grew as the eyes stayed on him while he led them on a merry chase through the city. This was the most fun he'd had in awhile. But, if it wasn't the dragons watching him, then who could it be? There seemed to be a proliferation of black town cars, possibly government-issue. Could it be that Bishop was finally rearing his ugly head? If so, Leonardo was going to be a real treat to deal with.

Leo would either toss in the towel and move them all to a remote desert island, or he would revert to the Leonardo of a year ago and head out with all guns blazing. Raphael doubted that there would be any in-between. Of course, Leonardo would only find out about this if Raphael deemed fit to tell him.

It was the worst kept secret in the sewers that Raphael was refusing to be chaperoned. For reasons that hadn't been acknowledged or discussed, Leonardo had the decency to keep quiet about it. In keeping with that spirit, Raphael didn't feel the need to tell Leo every little detail of his day.

But whatever this was, it was becoming increasingly apparent that it may be worth mentioning.

Raphael ceased running and crouched at the corner of a rooftop overlooking an abandoned alleyway. Given the location and the now-late hour, there were no humans in sight. There was, however, one of those omnipresent black town cars idling nearby. Raphael simply watched for a few moments, sitting stiff as a gargoyle while the angel on one shoulder fought with the devil on the other. He could lose these guys easily if he wanted to, or, he could act. Who was he kidding? He was going to act.

Raphael jumped into the alleyway, careful to stay disguised by shadows. He did, however, make sure that his voice would ring out loud and clear. "Who are you?" he yelled in the direction of the car. "What's this about?" The car remained idling, but there was no response. After waiting a few more minutes, he spread his arms wide and hollered again. "I'm right here! Are you going to make a move or not?"

The car sped away, and Raphael reluctantly returned to the safety of the rooftops. That feeling of being tracked was gone, replaced with a new feeling of foreboding dread. This felt like the start of something bad. Raphael jumped aimlessly from roof to roof a bit longer, until he was absolutely sure that no one was watching anymore. He then made his way back to the sewers and to the lair.

He knew that he had to tell Leonardo.

* * *

Michelangelo watched four very familiar figures whoop and holler as they shot across the rooftops below. Next to him stood the younger version of Renet, the one closer to Mikey's own age. He was learning to tell the subtle differences. Older Renet would never have let him talk her into bringing them here. Younger Renet was more easily influenced, but just because she'd gone along with this idea didn't mean she approved of it.

"We can't keep doing this, Michelangelo," she warned.

Mikey just continued to look on with world-weary eyes as a younger version of himself paused to dance around with a polka dot skirt, and was subsequently tackled by Raphael.

"Why not? We're not interfering. We're just watching," the older Mikey finally replied.

Renet crinkled her nose and shifted her weight from one hip to the other "Because it's depressing. You can't live in the past. It's not healthy," she explained. She then smiled in spite of herself as Raphael and the other Mikey played leapfrog as though they didn't have a care in the world.

Instead of responding to Renet, Mikey turned his attention back to the scene below. It was hard not to be jealous of himself. He had everything back then.

Younger Michelangelo's voice drifted up to them through the night air "See the full moon, Donnie? Do you feel the monster inside? The monster taking control?! Bwahahahaha!"

Donnie had been so playful that night, so happy to be free, so alive. He was young, just like the rest of them. But, unlike the others, he'd soon lose the chance to grow old. "Oh no, I'm changing. Roarrr!" Donnie yelled.

"Ahhh, help me! Help me! He's trying to eat my leg again!" Mikey cried as Donnie chased him around the roof and continued to roar. He was actually yelling the word 'roar,' like he was reading it from a book. What a dork.

It was unbelievable how much Mikey still missed him. He let out a bittersweet laugh and turned to face Renet. "That right there is the happiest I'll ever be," he declared. "The family was still whole. I was reigning Battle Nexus Champion. We had a brand new home. Shredder was gone. We'd just saved Donnie from the brink of permanent monster-hood. It seemed like the future was ours, like the best days were still ahead of us. If only I'd known how short and sweet those days would turn out to be."

"Don't get like that." Renet chastised. "You don't know that your best days are behind you."

Mikey let out a bitter snicker. "Are you telling me otherwise?" he scoffed.

"I haven't seen your future. Maybe some other version of me has, but not the version of me sitting in front of you right now. I don't know how things will turn out, and I don't want to. But I can tell you that the key to life is learning to cherish the past while still believing that the best is yet to come."

Michelangelo ignored the pearl of wisdom that a Renet had thrown at him and began to think out loud. "It's just not fair, you know? Looking back on it, Donnie caught all the bad breaks. He was kidnapped by the Triceraton. He was sent to an alternate reality that scarred him for life. He was sick for months and then transformed into a mindless monster. He fought so hard and overcame it all. He seemed so happy then." Mikey gestured to the scene below, where Donnie was still impersonating a B-movie monster as he chased his brothers in the moonlight. "And then he died," Mikey finished.

Renet put a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "You're right. It's not fair. You guys have all had to fight through a lot, but Donnie might just have had it the worst."

"Of course he had it worse. He's dead. The rest of us are still here."

"Are you, Mikey? Because it looks like you're still back there." Renet vaguely gestured to the roof that they'd been watching. A fight had broken out, but Mikey didn't care. The good part was already over.

"I like that guy more than the guy I am today," Michelangelo explained.

"You still are that guy, Mikey. And, you're someone else too. A guy who has grown and learned from all the terrible stuff that's been thrown at you."

"A guy Donnie will never know, because he doesn't get too far past there," Michelangelo said as his eyes sought Donatello in the crowd.

Renet nodded encouragingly. "That's the point of it all, Michelangelo. That's why you can't live in your past. It keeps you from growing into who you were truly meant to be. Getting too caught up in the past keeps you from moving forwards." Renet raised the time-scepter. "Ready to go?" she asked.

Mikey looked at this crazy, amazing, full-of-life woman who flit in and out of his life and filled his days with joy. He knew this younger, effervescent version of her, but he knew the older, wiser, more subdued version of her as well. They were two different people, yet they were still the same, somehow.

Whenever any version of Renet showed up, adventure was sure to follow. Michelangelo still didn't know whether they were headed to couple-hood or not, but the idea of that was invigorating. There was still a world of possibilities out there for him.

The past was great. Those days with his brothers were the most precious of his life so far. But, life ebbs and flows. His days wouldn't always be so painted with sadness. They couldn't be. He just had to break himself out of this rut. He had to stop watching life like a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons and start really living again.

Good things had to be waiting around the bend, and that kid playing on the rooftop below was still hidden somewhere deep inside of him. It was time for him to reacquaint himself with _himself_.

He was ready to go.

 **Thanks for reading. I know this story hasn't progressed much plot-wise recently, but I'm aiming to get the imprisonment section wrapped up by the end of the year. The best is yet to come.**


	17. Chapter 17

It had been over a month since his shell had been bashed in, and Donatello was beginning to recover. For a week or two he had lingered at death's door, but his captors didn't want him dead. They made sure that he kept breathing when his lungs decided they'd had enough. They even supplied antibiotics and IV nutrition. Sadly, their kindness didn't extend past basic life support. They didn't move him to a bed and they didn't stitch up any of the damaged flesh or do anything to repair his shell. As always, they were unmoved by his suffering.

During that time, Donatello had nothing to do but think. Mostly, he thought about his family, how much he loved them and what they might be doing now. He hadn't received any proof of life in months. The fact that Pseudo-Shredder had assured him that they would be killed or captured on sight indicated that this was actually a good thing. It meant they were likely still alive, even though his nightmares always insisted otherwise.

What he wouldn't give to have someone who loved him beside him now. It didn't matter who. They all had so much to offer - Splinter's calm wisdom, Leonardo's supportive strength, Raphael's passionate protectiveness, Michelangelo's loving good-humor. Donatello didn't know how he had managed to survive for so long without all that. He supposed it was instinct, memories, and dimming hope that had somehow gotten him through.

Now that some time had passed, he was able to push up off the floor. He hadn't tried to get his legs beneath him yet. With the damage to his back and only one functional leg, standing was a pretty scary proposition. If he fell, he risked re-injuring himself, and the last thing that he needed was to get even weaker.

The position of the injuries also made moving his arms difficult. The caved-in portion of his shell stabbed him in the back if he moved wrong. Donatello already knew that the damage to his leg would leave him crippled for life. The shell was just one more thing to deal with in an interminable list of problems.

If there was a blessing in all of this, it was that due to his precarious state and the failure of the first drug, his captors had more or less been leaving him alone. The torture sessions had ceased, and the guards weren't keeping as close an eye on him. Over the past year and a half, he had grown familiar with the sensation of being watched, the feeling of his skin crawling and his neck prickling as six sets of eyes just stared at him. They still watched him, but the feeling wasn't as intense. It gave him a small measure of relief amidst what felt like never-ending agony.

It was a bit of a surprise when the cell door opened. It wasn't meal time, and Donatello didn't think that they would be testing more drugs or resuming torture with him being as weak as he was. What happened turned out to be worse.

Pseudo-Shredder entered the room, and took his time approaching Donatello and kneeling beside him. This was the first time he had set foot inside the cell since the incident, and his presence made Donnie's blood turn to ice in his veins. The truth, as much as he tried to deny it even to himself, was that Donatello was terrified of this guy. Even now, he never called him 'Shredder,' out loud unless it was with a sarcastic undertone. But in his heart of hearts, Donnie was even more frightened of this guy than any of the real Shredders that had come before him. He had never had to face one of the others alone. There were always family and friends beside him. When it came to Pseudo-Shredder, Donatello was utterly helpless, at least for the time-being. As much as he wanted to believe that Pseudo-Shredder was just some pale imitation of the real thing, he was clearly powerful. He'd stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and he hurt Donnie every chance he got, in every manner that he could think of. He wasn't Pseudo-Shredder to Donnie any more. He was Shredder.

Shredder leaned in until he was a few feet from Donatello's face, and he smiled maliciously. "Bad news, freak. We found your brothers."

* * *

Leonardo took the lead while Raphael and Michelangelo ran in formation behind him. It had taken a long time to work out the kinks in their new trio, having been a quartet for most of their lives. Lately, it felt like they were finally finding their groove again. Beneath the starlight, they leaped from roof to roof until Leonardo held up a hand, bringing them to a stop. All three sunk down in their assigned locations and turned their eyes to the city street below them.

Casey pulled into the alley and stepped out of April's old van. Just as he looked up, a kusarigama sickle cut through the night sky and implanted itself in the brick wall of the building beside him. Casey uttered an expletive and ducked to avoid a few jagged fragments that came tumbling towards him.

A snickering Michelangelo landed in the alley. "Darn it. Missed again," he said with a wink.

"Jeez, Mikey, be careful with that thing." Casey scolded. "You could have taken my eye out."

"I'm still learning, Casey. I'll do better next time," Michelangelo promised.

Leonardo landed in the alley, and was soon followed by Raphael. "Sorry, Casey. We need someone to master a longer-range weapon, and the kusarigama seemed a natural fit for Mikey. He's been a bit rambunctious with it," Leonardo apologized.

Raphael put his hands on his hips. "You know how kids are when they get a new toy."

Casey laughed. Lately the remaining brothers had been acting a lot more like their old selves. It probably helped that they had been keeping busy. Ever since Raphael had been followed several months ago, they'd been intensifying their training and putting more emphasis on group patrols. Some new threat was out there, and dealing with threats was what the turtles did best.

"So, what's the plan?" Casey asked.

"Simple," Leonardo replied. "The three of us are meeting with Karai at that rooftop over there." Leo indicated a few buildings over. "She's supposed to be coming alone. We just need you to keep an eye on the streets in case there's any funny business. Don't engage anyone. If you see anything suspicious, just give us a call."

"Okay. Just don't keep me here past two. April doesn't want me staying out too late."

Michelangelo lashed his kusarigama chain to produce a reasonable facsimile of a whipping noise.

"I'm not whipped!" Casey insisted. "She just worries if I'm gone too long, and the stress isn't good for her right now. Some of us have grown up responsibilities, you know."

Michelangelo and Raphael both looked ready to continue mocking their friend, but Leonardo stopped them. "We get it. This shouldn't take too long." Leonardo turned back to his brothers. "Get to the roof guys. She'll be here soon."

Raphael followed Leonardo's order, but Michelangelo lingered in the alley for a moment, making sure to lock eyes with Casey. "Doesn't want to be late for his date," Mikey pretended to whisper, as he gestured to Leo. He followed it up with a kissy noise.

"That's enough, Michelangelo! Get to the roof!" Leonardo tossed a shuriken at Mikey's feet for emphasis, sending his brother leaping away. Then he turned to face Casey. "I have no romantic interest in Karai," he stated.

"Course not," Casey agreed, smirking as he climbed back into the van. "Enjoy your talk."

Leonardo grimaced at Casey's tone and his use of air quotes. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't have a crush on Karai! I never have!"

Casey simply drove off, leaving a flustered Leonardo by himself in the alley. He retrieved his shuriken and scaled the side of the building.

"Did Casey have any dating advice for you?" Michelangelo teased, earning a playful blow to the back of the head from Raphael.

"I'm not interested in Karai!" Leonardo loudly insisted.

"Then why did you request my company?" a female voice inquired. All three brothers were shocked that she had managed to catch them off guard.

"Karai!" Leonardo sputtered. "Where did you come from?"

"Work," was her cryptic answer. "Spending so much time behind a desk requires me to hone my skills whenever the opportunity presents itself. From your reaction, I gather that I have not yet lost my touch?"

"No, but maybe _we've_ lost a step or two," Raphael answered. He was more than a little embarrassed that she had managed to get the drop on them.

"On the contrary, word on the street is that you are back to form. So, tell me, why did you want to meet today?"

Leonardo was sure to keep a safe distance, not wanting to encourage his brothers' incorrect perception that he harbored some sort of romantic feelings for their one-time rival. "A month or two ago, Raphael was followed halfway around the city."

"On foot?" Karai questioned.

"By a series of black sedans," Raphael clarified.

"We've been on the lookout ever since," Leonardo elaborated. "We've all been followed from time to time. So far, we've managed to lose them before anything further has come of it, but- "

"I'm tired of running for miles just to pick up a pizza," Michelangelo interrupted. "Do you know anything about this, Karai?"

"I do not, but I can ask my crews to keep an eye out for suspicious activity," Karai offered.

"Thanks," Leonardo nodded, "more sets of eyes can't hurt."

"Is there something else that you would ask of me? This seems a rather trivial matter to have called a meeting over."

Raphael let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Maybe trivial to you, but old Fearless here ain't so fearless anymore. If we don't get on top of this now, he's gonna lock us up in the lair and throw away the key," he complained.

Leonardo ignored his brother. "There is more, actually. I was hoping you could patrol with us for a bit, and see if anyone makes an appearance. I'd also like to pick your brain about our former enemies. Maybe one of them is behind this."

Karai was a bit taken aback. She had counted the turtles as allies for several years now, but they had never asked her to patrol with them. Patrolling wasn't exactly her style.

"You said you wanted to hone your skills," Leonardo encouraged, sensing her misgivings.

"Okay," Karai submitted. "But only for a little while, and only if we do not run afoul of anyone who may have ill will towards me. I do not wish to entangle myself in the underworld any further than is necessary. I do have a reputation to uphold."

Leonardo had been planning to split off into pairs. He had intended to go with Karai, simply because he wanted to keep a close eye on her. It was still difficult to completely trust her. But, he didn't want to endure the teasing that would earn him. If he wanted to keep Karai as an ally, he certainly couldn't subject her to unmitigated Michelangelo, in all his glory. That left Karai with Raphael, a potentially explosive combination.

His mind made up, Leonardo acted as if the decision had been easy. "Alright then. We work in pairs. Mikey, you're with me."

At first, Karai and Raphael looked at each other with uncertainty, then slowly Raphael grew a wicked grin as he raised an eye ridge. "What do you say we paint the town red?" he asked.

Karai returned the grin and bowed to the others.

"Keep my brother safe," Leonardo warned. "We meet back here in two hours."

Karai took off in a flash. Raphael lingered long enough to point out that he was perfectly capable of keeping himself safe, before he gave chase.

"What now, boss?" Michelangelo asked.

"We call Casey and tell him to shadow those two, just in case they run into trouble. Then we go do our thing, and try to draw out whoever's been after us. It will be interesting to see if our little friends come out to play tonight, and how they react to Karai."

After the phone call to Casey was made, the two brothers took off in the opposite direction of Raphael and Karai. "You're not worried about Raph stealing your girl?" Michelangelo teased as he landed a jump.

"She's not my girl! What is wrong with you?" Leonardo called from midair, grunting as he rolled onto the next roof.

"Just getting you back for all the teasing about Renet."

Leonardo shook his head. "I don't tease you about Renet. Raph does."

"Okay, I'll give you that, and I know you're not reaaallly into Karai. But, it's not like it would be the worst thing if you pursued _some_ sort of life outside the lair, you know."

"I do have a life outside the lair!" Leo defended. "We're outside the lair right now, aren't we?"

Michelangelo was nonplussed. "You only leave for patrol. Patrol doesn't count. When is the last time that you left the lair for anything other than patrol?"

Leonardo thought for a minute. "There was that time I went across town to restock Master Splinter's favorite tea."

"Dude, that was months ago!"

"It was?"

"Yes, Leo. No offense, but you need to get a life. Hang out with April and Casey. Visit Usagi. Start attending Comic-Con dressed up as an alien. Anything."

Leonardo stopped in his tracks. At first Michelangelo thought that his brother was considering what he just said, but then he saw that Leo's attention was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on a black car. "Mikey, do you see that?"

He did. The car was just sitting near the curve, but it hadn't been there moments ago. The windows were too tinted to see inside. "What do we do, Leo? Call the others?" Michelangelo asked.

"Keep running. See if they follow." Leonardo picked up his phone and dialed Casey again, asking him to double back and keep an eye on the car. Then he called Raphael.

* * *

"Leo's got company," Raphael explained to Karai as he hung up the phone.

Karai was almost disappointed that patrol may be ending this early. Being out this late, running rooftops, looking for trouble - It was invigorating. "That didn't take long. Does he want us to come back?" she asked.

Raphael put his phone back in his belt. "No. He and Mikey can handle it. He wants us to head further out and see if we pick up any tails of our own."

Karai smiled. "As you wish."

The two continued running. They had never been the best of friends, which made the silence stretch awkwardly. To fill it, Karai began speaking. "Leonardo wanted to know if I had any information about your old enemies?"

"Oh yeah. I don't think he had anything specific in mind. I guess he just wanted general updates, if you have any."

Karai leaped effortlessly across a ten-foot gap. "Where to start? I would think your biggest threat would be Hun."

This came as a surprise to Raphael. "Hun? He's not even on our radar."

"Nor is he on mine. That's what's suspicious. He hated all of us, and does not approve of my leading the Foot. So why haven't we heard from him in years?"

"Good point. We can look into Hun. But what about Stockman? Do you have anything on him?"

"He and I have an understanding. He is distancing himself and trying to rebuild his life. I do not think that he poses any sort of threat. If anything, he never wants to think about any of us again."

"Who can blame him?" Raphael chuckled. He stopped to scan the streets below, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Then he raised his head to examine Karai. "Sorry, but I've gotta ask. What about your dad?" Raphael had thought it kinder to call him her dad, rather than Shredder, Ch'rell, or one of the many colorful nicknames they had for him. It still felt strange rolling off his tongue, though.

Karai's eyes pierced through him, her gaze briefly full of ice. A moment later she warmed, but she was clearly saddened. "I have heard nothing from my father since his banishment. I do not expect to ever hear from him again."

"You wouldn't tell us if you did, though. Would you?" Raphael observed.

Karai relaxed her posture, and looked to the sky. "Truthfully, I do not know. He raised me. I will always love him. But, I have tried to live my life with honor. The deeper I delve into his business, and the more I learn about the way he ran the Foot, the more I find myself…" she trailed off, searching for the proper words. Raphael waited patiently for her to finish the thought.

"I think that I would tell you if I heard from him" she finished. "As much as it pains me, I have come to believe that he deserves his punishment."

Karai lowered her eyes from the heavens to the city streets below. Then, she tensed. "There! Is that one of them?" She pulled her hood up to better obscure her features while Raphael investigated.

"Could be," he said. "Only one way to find out."

The two returned to their rooftop run, keeping a quick pace and making multiple turns to ensure that they were being followed. "I'm calling Leonardo," Raphael declared, when the car continued its pursuit ten minutes later. Karai nodded her consent.

Raphael was relieved that Leo picked up on the first ring. "Raph, What's up?"

"We picked up a tail. You still got yours?"

"Sure do. These cars could hold up to five people each. Don't engage. Let's meet back at the old TCRI checkpoint and see what they do. We'll all face this together."

"Okay. Stay safe, Leo."

"You too. I'll call Casey and let him know the plan. I'm going to tell him to hold back unless we absolutely need him."

"We won't. See you at the checkpoint."

The unspoken question was whether the cars would continue their pursuit once they realized that both parties were reuniting. If so, there would be inevitable conflict to follow. In time it was confirmed, nobody was backing down. The turtles could only hope that more cars didn't join the pursuit.

The turtles' destination was a block south of TCRI, on a somewhat isolated rooftop that they had previously used for surveillance. Leonardo and Michelangelo arrived mere moments before Raphael and Karai. Michelangelo fixed his eyes on the car below, while Leonardo kept a watchful gaze on his brother and friend. When they rejoined each other, Leonardo skipped the greetings and got straight to business.

"Karai, if you want to leave, now is the time."

Karai made sure that her hood still obscured her features. "I will not leave you. Just please do your best not to give away my identity."

Leonardo clapped his hands and turned to the edge of the rooftop. "Okay. No time like the present. Let's head down there. Casey is going to be nearby in case we need him. He's got our backs."

"Good old Casey," Raphael said as he spun a sai. "Let's make sure he's home on time tonight."

The two black cars were parked hood to trunk in the alley below. Anticipation hung in the air as the turtles and Karai descended the building. This was it. They were going to see once and for all who was stalking them. The car doors all opened simultaneously. What was revealed was not what they expected. Each car held four people, men of varying ages, sizes, builds and backgrounds. They were dressed normally, not like foot soldiers or government agents. After so many years of dealing with mutants, aliens, and supernatural baddies, this just seemed anticlimactic.

For a moment, the turtles and their adversaries studied each other. Leonardo felt an odd sense of something akin to guilt. Could these guys be the New York City equivalent of birdwatchers? Just a group of people looking to cross 'mutated turtle' off their urban legend scavenger hunt list? They hadn't tried to harm the anyone yet, after all. Leonardo thought back to when he was at his most unbalanced, when the group of disgruntled Foot accused him of being the aggressor. Was history repeating itself?

Leonardo's questions were answered when the men all pulled out guns. "Guns!" Raphael shouted. He released a shuriken, causing one of the firearms to skitter across the alley.

Raphael's shout and the gunman's yelp as he cradled his bloody hand caused a momentary distraction, which allowed Karai to kick away another weapon that had been aimed at Raphael. "Dishonorable!" she spat.

Karai pivoted and knocked away another weapon, causing an errant shot to fly off into the distance. It was practically soundless. These guys had silencers. They were clearly not first timers.

Leonardo spotted a gunman taking aim at Karai. He managed to slice the gun in half with one well-maintained katana. To his horror, another gun was pointed at his head just as he finished his follow-through. He froze as his blood ran cold. A kusarigama sickle sliced through the air, instantly knocking the gun away. Leo turned and nodded to Michelangelo, who gave him a cocky salute.

Leonardo took stock of the situation. Everyone had been disarmed. Karai and Raphael were now engaged in hand to hand combat, moving at lightning speed. Their adversaries were skilled in martial arts, in addition to being well-armed. Michelangelo began running towards the fray. He unleashed the kusarigama, taking out two opponents and sending them crashing into the brick wall of the adjacent building. Seeing that the fight was in hand, Leonardo began collecting guns. Maybe April could track the serial numbers somehow. He stashed as many as he could find in a nearby trash can.

"Raph, search the cars!" Leo ordered. "Look for registrations, paperwork, IDs, anything!"

Leonardo had been preparing to do this himself, but it was clear that Raphael was already riding an adrenaline high. He didn't want his brother to do anything he would regret before they had a chance to find out who these guys were. Raphael hesitated before throwing a final punch and heading to the nearest vehicle.

Leonardo sidled next to Karai, who was easily holding her own against a much larger opponent. Only three of the eight men were left standing. "Recognize anyone?" Leo hollered, as he drew one of Michelangelo's two adversaries towards him instead. There was no answer.

Leonardo dodged a punch, dropping low and swinging a leg out in front of him. His opponent went down hard. Leo drew his katana and lowered it to the man's throat, keeping a foot on his chest to hold him down. "Who are you?" he yelled. The man cowered, but stayed tight-lipped.

Karai managed to knock out her opponent, and bounded to Leonardo's side. "Let them go," she whispered into his ear slit. "I have an idea."

Karai didn't elaborate. Leonardo considered her. Her posture and eyes were like steel. She meant business. Raphael was exiting the second car, a stack of papers in hand. They had enough to go on for now. Leo lifted his phone and called Casey. "You can head home, Case. Give April our best."

Karai smiled, and Michelangelo nodded in approval as he began patting down their fallen foes. Leonardo and Raphael collected the guns, then all four disappeared back into the city shadows, leaving eight groaning and semi-conscious men in their wake. It had been a productive night.


	18. Chapter 18

Shredder watched the pathetic creature before him continue to silently scream. It was quite a sight to behold, really. As troublesome as this freak had been, he had to admit that he admired its composure and determination. No matter what he had thrown at it, it had managed to keep itself under control, until now, that is.

His scientists had assured him that this latest serum would make the mutant compliant and open to suggestion. He had been optimistic when he injected it, and even for a few minutes afterwards. He had considered it to be a good sign when creature first began screaming, as he had never been able to illicit such a response before. Sure, the wretched thing had cried out on occasion, but it seemed intent on not allowing anyone to bear witness to its suffering. Even when they had bashed its shell in, it had only cried out for a moment or two before muting itself and subsequently passing out. Its fortitude was impressive, he would grant it that much.

But it had been screaming continuously for hours now. Its voice had long-since died out completely, although its disgusting beak was still opening and closing. It was still grasping its head with those creepy three-fingered hands as it writhed around. The sound of the chains rattling was eerily merry as it echoed through the cell. Shredder watched it all play out, and wondered if it was physical or mental torture that the serum had inflicted. Whatever was going on, the thing was clearly out of its mind. It had even tried to retract its head into its broken shell a few times, which was rather amusing because it was physically impossible for it to do so.

It was clear that the creature was currently incapable of even comprehending words, never mind obeying them. In that sense, this latest version of the drug was a failure. In a larger sense, this outcome had been quite gratifying. This serum could prove very useful, indeed.

* * *

Leonardo was pacing the lair like a caged animal, wishing that someone was around for him to bounce ideas off of. Unfortunately for him, Splinter was asleep, and everyone else was out living their lives. Leonardo had been on his own for most of the night, and it was wearing on him. Whenever they were away, he worried about his brother's safety. The distraction was interfering with his ability to focus, and he really wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with their new enemies.

Things had been especially dangerous since the big showdown a few months ago. Instead of simply stalking them, their assailants were now actively trying to catch the turtles by any means necessary. Given how many bullets they had been dodging, it apparently didn't matter if they were captured dead or alive. Both Splinter and Leonardo insisted that the brothers travel in groups whenever they were above ground, which was growing more and more infrequent due to the constant threat of being ambushed. Leonardo tried his best to keep everyone safely locked in the lair, unless they were working reconnaissance missions.

In order to keep everyone as happy as possible, there were certain exceptions. Michelangelo was allowed out with Renet, since she picked him up and dropped him off directly in the sewers. Sometimes they all went on trips with her, but for the most part she preferred the company of Michelangelo alone. She claimed that it was because there was less danger associated with smaller groups, but Leonardo suspected that wasn't the whole story. Tonight, Renet had insisted on taking Michelangelo alone, for stealth purposes.

For his part, Raphael still frequently visited Casey. This was allowed, since years ago the brothers had cut a tunnel directly into the basement of the Second Time Around Shop. As long as Raphael stayed below ground or at the apartment, he had free reign to visit there whenever he wanted. Raphael swore that he wasn't currently playing vigilante. Again, Leonardo kept his suspicions to himself. Sometimes Raphael danced around the truth, but Leonardo had never known him to be an outright liar.

All the material that they had obtained on the night they turned the tables on their stalkers had yielded a ton of potential leads. The turtles had been researching and conducting stakeouts for months, but it was slow-going. None of them were that great with computers, and April was the only available techie and hacker. Understandably, a lot of her time was taken up by her job and home life. This was even more true now that she was expecting a baby. It was happy news, and everyone was excited. They were sad to be seeing less of her, though.

After winning the first showdown with their new enemies, Karai had told Leonardo that she recognized several of the men as being former Foot. There had been a mass exodus in recent years, due to all the changes that Karai had made, and the men that had fought the turtles were amongst those who had left. It could have been a coincidence. But then, Leonardo didn't really believe in coincidences. There had to be some connection. It was just a matter of finding out what it was.

Leonardo had started by following the people that Karai had recognized. It was simply the easiest thing to do that had the potential to yield immediate results. April needed time to track the serial numbers on the guns and research the history of the vehicles. Turning the tables on their stalkers took no time at all, especially considering that they had stolen their IDs, and therefore knew who they were and where they lived.

It seemed like their enemies were more intelligent than the average street-thugs, though. They knew they had been compromised, so they went about their daily lives as though they weren't part of some larger organization. These same men who had been relentlessly stalking them for months were suddenly perfect little angels, in bed by 10 PM, and only leaving the house to work their day jobs. Michelangelo even claimed to have witnessed one of them helping a little old lady across the street. They weren't leading the turtles anywhere that would give away anything about their organization. Even their phone calls were boring and uninformative.

April had finally begun feeding Leonardo information about the vehicles earlier that night. The thing that immediately caught his attention was that one of the cars was previously owned by Peterman Transit Services. Of course, this sent up huge red flags, but Leo didn't know what to do next. He was distracted by thoughts of Donatello, and that familiar feeling that maybe, somehow, there was still a chance that he was alive and that they might find him. Reading that name again - Peterman Transit Services out of Hoboken - it sent him back to that night that he had tried so hard to move past.

But, he knew the others would caution him that it could just be a coincidence. Peterman had gone bankrupt, and there was another owner in between. Leo really needed to sit down and talk things over with someone. Michelangelo wasn't expected back yet, but Raphael was supposed to have checked in over an hour ago. The only thing more upsetting than seeing Peterman's name come up again was worrying about Raphael's prolonged absence.

It was getting late. An hour ago, Leonardo had been mad that Raphael wasn't returning his calls, but now that anger had given way to concern, particularly given that he was reliving the loss of Donatello. The cell phone signal boosters were acting up, so Leo wasn't getting the best underground cell phone reception at the moment. Nevertheless, he attempted another phone call. As he was hanging up, the lair door opened.

"Raph?" Leo called, anxiously.

"Sorry to disappoint. It's only me," Michelangelo replied.

As much as Leonardo was worried about Raphael, it was a great relief that Michelangelo was home to provide him with some company. "Mikey? Well, I'm glad you're back at a reasonable hour, at least. Have you heard from Raph at all tonight?"

"Chillax, bro. Let me check." Michelangelo began fiddling around with his belt, discarding strange currency and pieces of paper adorned with writing in a language Leonardo didn't recognize.

"Where the heck were you?" Leo asked.

Michelangelo smiled. "Some other planet, in the future, or maybe the past. Who knows."

Leonardo laughed, happy to see Mikey's carefree attitude had returned in full force. "So, it was an uneventful night, then?"

Michelangelo was distracted as he searched for his phone, and began rambling. "We stopped an assassination attempt on some alien dude, who I guess was important. Then we watched this cool game with jet packs that was played in a maze-like arena made of a bunch of plastic tubes. Glitter and chalk bombs kept going off inside, and sometimes everything would just shift. I think we should try to reproduce it in the sewers, but with roller blades instead of jet packs."

"Why are you home early if you were having so much fun?" Leonardo asked.

"I was out all night. Renet just brought me back here now, for whatever reason. One of the advantages of hanging out with a timestress, I guess. You don't have to worry about missing your curfew." Mikey managed to locate and free his phone. "Nope, no messages."

"Alright. Well maybe we're not getting a good enough signal. Why don't we poke our heads up above ground for a minute and see if we can get a hold of Raph?"

"Come on, Leo. I'm tired," Michelangelo whined dramatically. "He's probably just out with Casey and lost track of time. You know how he is."

"Yes, I do know how he is, and his being out with Casey is exactly what I'm worried about. He was supposed to stay at the apartment. Just he and Casey alone are no match for whoever is out to get us."

"Speaking of that, have you made any headway with the stuff that April sent you?"

Leonardo frowned, knowing that this conversation was about to take a turn for the worse. "Yeah, actually. One of the cars used to be owned by Peterman Transit."

"You mean our Peterman?" Michelangelo said in shock. It was a name that was infamous to all of them.

"Yeah. Looks like they went bankrupt and liquidated their assets. One of the town cars went to a limo company in Trenton, then it was sold again and registered to one of the guys who was stalking us," Leonardo explained.

Michelangelo seemed disappointed. "So, there was an owner in between Peterman and these guys?"

"Well, yeah," Leo replied. "But it still seems like a pretty big coincidence, don't you think?"

Michelangelo clasped his head and groaned. "Aaack. Leo, I've been awake forever, and we were drinking this… stuff. I think it was called groag, or gwark, or something. I don't know what was in it, but I'm not sure that my brain has the capacity to deal with this right now."

Mikey did look tired. "Fine," Leonardo relented. "Just go to bed. We can talk tomorrow."

"Thanks, Leo," Michelangelo said as he pulled his brother into a hug. "We'll get this all figured out in the morning. And don't worry about Raph. You worry too much."

Leo suppressed his urge to snicker. Of course he worried. They had seen firsthand that the hammer could fall at any minute. As far as he was concerned, the rest of them didn't worry nearly enough.

* * *

Raphael frowned and turned the paper he was looking at sideways, in the hopes that it would make more sense that way. "Insert slat A into support 4. Which one is supposed to be slat A? Aren't the slats all the same?" he loudly complained.

"Keep it down, Raph, April is sleeping. If she wakes up and catches us, it will ruin the surprise," Casey scolded.

"She's not going to wake up, Casey. I'm not being that loud."

"It doesn't matter how quiet you think you're being. She wakes up at the slightest noise these days. Something about moms-to-be preparing for having newborns around," Casey lectured. "It's biological."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "So, why'd you pick the middle of the night to do this, ya bonehead?"

"Because, she comes in here all the time. If she saw the stuff fully assembled it would ruin the surprise."

"So, you're behaving like a competent husband and assembling baby furniture would be considered surprising? Way to set the bar low, Casey."

"It's her birthday gift. Imagine her walking in here tomorrow morning to see the nursery all set up. It's gonna blow her mind!"

"You're just too cheap to buy an actual gift," Raphael pointed out.

"Babies are expensive. We're trying to save money. She'll appreciate this more than some trinket," Casey retorted.

Raphael laughed as quietly as he could. "You keep telling yourself that. Don't come crying to me tomorrow when she flips out on you."

Absorbed in his work, Raphael failed to notice how late it had gotten. He had muted his phone earlier, at Casey's request, and it had then gotten buried in a mound of discarded papers and packaging. He had no idea that there were a half dozen texts and missed calls from Leonardo.

* * *

"Stop worrying, Leo. Stop worrying." Leonardo was talking to himself out loud as he paced. Why couldn't Raphael just check in? Everyone knew how worked up Leo got about these things.

Leonardo's pacing brought him past Splinter's room, as well as Michelangelo's. He almost wanted them to wake up. He coughed a little too loudly, but when nothing happened he sighed and returned to his pacing.

Finally having enough, he decided to take a walk through the sewers in the hopes of getting a better phone signal. While he didn't have any missed calls or messages, it was possible that the poor signal was to blame. Leo thought he remembered April cautioning him about that.

This is just like Raph, he thought to himself. Probably out bashing heads with Casey. You would think a soon-to-be-father would be more responsible than this. But then again, this was Casey. April carried the burden of responsibility for both of them.

Leonardo kept his eye on his phone, but he knew from experience that he wasn't going to get any bars until he went above ground. At this point, he might as well just take the path that ended in the basement of the Second Time Around Shop. If Raphael was there, Leo would drag him home by his shell. If not, there would be a whole new set of problems.

* * *

A creak came from somewhere downstairs. "Did you hear that?" Casey harshly whispered. "Did it sound like someone was out there? Do you think we woke April?"

Raphael shushed his friend. He had heard something, although to him it sounded more like the building settling than a person. "Just turn off the light and be quiet."

From the basement of the shop, Leonardo sent out yet another text. _WTF are you?_ If Raphael's phone wasn't on mute, and buried under papers, Raphael might have noticed it.

Leonardo crept upstairs. The apartment was dark and quiet. He considered calling out to see who was home, but it seemed clear that only April was around. He could hear her quietly snoring. According to Casey, her pregnancy rage was epic, and Leo didn't care to disturb her. Raphael obviously wouldn't be in their bedroom, so Leonardo settled for searching the main living area. It was dark and empty. He didn't bother to check the nursery, since there was no light or sound coming from it.

Frustrated, Leonardo descended the stairs back to the basement, pausing when he reached the bottom. If someone had captured Raphael, time was of the essence. Besides that, Leo had a lot of questions that needed answering. He returned to the tunnel instead of the street, as he didn't want to draw anyone to April and Casey's home, but instead of heading towards the lair, he headed towards downtown.

* * *

"I don't think anyone is out there," Casey whispered a few moments later. "Say, what time is it anyway?"

The question about the time made Raphael realized that he had forgotten to check in with Leonardo. Raphael fumbled for his phone, cursing as he realized it wasn't in his belt. "Dammit. Casey, have you seen my phone?"

Casey rolled his eyes, but began assisting in the search. It took a few minutes or the two of them groping around together to find it, but when they did, Raphael finally realized that he was knee deep in trouble. "Ack. Leo's called me about a million times. Are you okay here? because he's gonna want to chew me out in person."

"And you say I'm whipped," Casey teased.

"Shut up, Casey. And good luck not getting turned to the curb with the garbage tomorrow when April sees this mess!"

"Hey!" Casey hissed to Raphael's back as his friend stealthed out of the room.

* * *

Leonardo had just reached the surface when his phone rang. His voice was choked with rage when he answered. "Raphael! Where have you been all night? Where the shell are you?"

"I was at Casey's."

"Like shell you were. I just came from there! You promised me that you weren't playing vigilante anymore."

"Calm down, Leo. I was at the apartment all night, I swear! Casey and I were just holed up in the nursery."

"In the dark?" Leo sputtered incredulously.

"Yeah," Raphael replied. Even he knew how ridiculous it sounded. "We were hiding from April. I'm in the tunnel entrance right now. You can meet me here if you're so close."

"Too late. I've got places to be," Leonardo said, with an unmistakable edge to his voice. "Don't wait up." Leo knew he should do the right thing and go home. If one of his brothers did what he was about to do, he would be incensed. But, the truth was that he had been driven over the edge...by all of it. He was tired of living in fear. He was tired of unanswered questions. There was no going back now, at least not tonight.

The car that was previously owned by Peterman was registered to Adam Callisi, a middle aged former Foot ninja, and current turtle-stalker. Leonardo made quick work of getting to Adam's apartment, and managed to do so without getting ambushed. It may have helped that he stuck to the alleys instead of taking the rooftops. He made a mental note about that for the future.

Leonardo climbed the fire escape and jimmied open one of Adam's windows. It was a studio apartment, adorned in typical bachelor-pad style. Adam was asleep in an unkempt day-bed crammed into one corner. Leo immediately snatched him up by the shoulder and screamed into his face.

"Care to tell me where you got your car, Adam?!"

Adam shrieked, as anyone who had been awoken in such a manner would do. When he didn't answer immediately, Leonardo gave him a good shaking. "Your car! Tell me where you got your car!"

"T-turtle!" was Adam's astute reply.

"That's right. The same turtle who beat you down last time. We're about to have another go-round," Leonardo snarled. "Now tell me about your car."

"My car?" Adam whimpered. This earned him a punch from Leo. Adam wiped the blood from his lip. "I bought it used. Why do you care?"

"You bought it? No one bought it for you?"

"Uhhh," Adam stammered.

"Because it seems sort of odd that the cars that have been following my family around are nearly identical, and yours in particular has an interesting history. So, tell me, did you really buy the car, or did someone buy it for you and then register it in your name?"

"Uhhh," Adam continued to stammer.

"You can't recall?" Leonardo punched Adam again, a little harder this time. "How about this, then. Do you know anything about my brother, Donatello?"

"D-Donner? No... Never heard of him," Adam answered. He seemed to be telling the truth, which only enraged Leo further. His temper was getting out of control. All the stresses of the night had brought him to his boiling point.

"Who are you working for?!" Leonardo screamed. Adam began struggling. He was a ninja, after all. Or, a former ninja at the very least. Leonardo tightened his grip.

A knock was heard on the front door of the apartment, "Are you okay in there?" a woman's voice called.

Leonardo locked eyes with Adam and tried to look as menacing as possible. "Don't. You. Dare," he mouthed.

"Adam," the woman yelled. "It's the middle of the damn night, and I heard screaming. Answer me now or I'm calling 911."

"I'm fine. Sorry about the noise," Adam relented. Being the nefarious fellow that he was, he didn't want cops showing up at his place any more that Leonardo did.

The woman at the door seemed to depart, but the disruption had managed to bring Leonardo back down to earth. He decided it may be best to make a hasty escape before he did something he would regret later. He left Adam with a warning before making his way back out the window. "Mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. And, you'd better tell your friends or your boss or whoever to back the hell off my family, because if any of you guys so much as lay a finger on one of them, the next time I pay you a visit you're not going to be anywhere near this lucky."

* * *

Now it was Raphael who was pacing the lair worrying about his brother. Having the tables turned on him was a bitter pill to swallow. A part of him felt like he deserved this, but another part of him was growing more and more offended as the night wore on.

Raphael had told Leonardo the truth. He wasn't playing vigilante these days. He recognized it was too dangerous to do that on his own at the moment, and Casey wasn't up to taking any unnecessary risks, given that he had a baby on the way. Raphael had simply lost track of time and his phone. He felt terrible that Leonardo had been so worried, and he wanted to make it up to him. He would've been happy to accompany Leo on whatever tonight's mission had been, but Leonardo had turned his phone off after the two last spoke.

It hadn't taken Raphael long to figure out what had triggered Leo. "Peterman Transit Services" was circled with red pen on one of the papers that was set atop the coffee table. Raphael let out a low growl whenever he caught sight of it. The last thing any of them needed was to relive any of that.

Eventually, Leonardo came home, every muscle clenched tight, and blood clearly visible on his knuckles. "Bout time," Raphael hollered. "What the Shell, Leo?! I was worried sick!"

"Doesn't feel good, does it?" Leonardo shouted over his shoulder as he stormed straight to his room. He then slammed the door behind him. The sound of a lock clicking into place echoed through the lair, as loud and deadly as a bullet.

 **Thank you for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer - I do not own TMNT. While turtles do live in my yard, they remain happily un-mutated.**

In days gone by, this time of night used to bring Splinter a sense of comfort. This was around the time that his four healthy, boisterous sons used to return home from patrol. Along with them would come fresh air, tales of adventure, laughter, and, more often than not, pizza.

But, it hadn't been like that for a long time now. This time of night, Splinter was often alone. When he had company, there was little joy in it. At least one son, if not more, was always upset, frustrated, angry or stressed. It seemed as though his family didn't know how to operate as a unit anymore. Perhaps that was his fault. But the reason for the rift didn't matter at this point. Casting blame, even upon himself, would not be constructive. The only thing that mattered was solving the problem before it tore them apart.

Michelangelo sat quietly for once, his restrained, nervous energy almost palpable. Raphael was beside him on the sofa, stiff as a board. The only one missing was Leonardo. His disappearances were happening with increasing frequency. He had become obsessed with researching the former holdings of Peterman Transit. The others had offered their enthusiastic assistance at first, but after months of work, they still couldn't find any connection between the defunct company and their current problems. Splinter, Raphael, and Michelangelo accepted that it was simply another dead-end, and moved onto researching the Foot connection instead. Leonardo wasn't ready to let go of Peterman, and had begun chasing leads on his own. When his family voiced their concerns for him, he reacted by growing secretive. They were losing him. It was like they were reliving the aftermath of Donatello's death all over again.

When Leonardo finally came home, he was nursing a deep gash on his arm. He had intended to sneak in quietly and tend to the wound, but he was caught off guard by the sight of his family assembled in the main living area, and apparently awaiting his return. It only took one look at his family's faces for Leo to realize that the wound was about to become the least of his problems. This wasn't the first time that he had faced an intervention, after all.

"Where were you, Leonardo?" Splinter asked. "What happened to your arm?" His voice was full of fatherly concern, but his demeanor was steely.

Leonardo answered honestly, just as he would answer all their other questions honestly. "I broke into the headquarters of a company that purchased some of Peterman's former assets. I cut my arm on broken glass." If he wanted to be specific, he would have told them that he hurt it when the security guards almost caught him, forcing him to jump out a window. He would have openly admitted this if his family had probed further, but they didn't.

Michelangelo spoke, trying his best to be patient and kind. "Why didn't you ask us to help you? You know we would've gone along."

"That's why," Leonardo answered, cryptically.

"Huh?" a befuddled Michelangelo responded.

Leonardo smiled softly, to show he held no ill will. "You just would've _gone along._ I would've been dragging you off somewhere you didn't really want to go, when you were perfectly happy playing with the baby."

"What about me?" Raphael grumbled. "You know I'm always up for an adventure."

The smile on Leonardo's lips soured. "No, you're always up for a fight. And, that's exactly what tonight would've turned into if you had come along. You would've told me that I'm grasping at straws, chasing a ghost."

Raphael looked to Splinter and Michelangelo for assistance. Both were stone-faced. "Well," he began, "we all think you are."

Raphael had expected Leonardo to be angry when he said this, but instead, he hardly reacted at all. "I know," Leonardo said, emotionlessly. "That's why I'm not involving you."

This upset Michelangelo enough that he decided it was his turn to speak. "But these guys we're up against are dangerous! They're former Foot. They have guns. They aren't pulling any punches. It was you who said we all needed to stick together if we went topside. Why are the rules different for you?" Michelangelo spoke seriously, and when Michelangelo spoke seriously, everybody listened.

Splinter bore his eyes into Leonardo. Michelangelo had asked a very good question, and, for once, Leo didn't seem to have an answer prepared. "Because I… They're not… It's just…"

"You don't care about your life as much as you care about ours?" Raphael kindly supplied. He could relate to that line of thinking. It was a trait that ran strong in their family.

"What life?" Leo asked, trying to sound lighthearted. "Everyone knows I don't have a life, right?"

"That's not funny," Michelangelo snapped.

"What?" a flustered Leonardo replied. "You've pointed it out yourself, more than once."

"I was kidding," Michelangelo defended. "Trying to get you to loosen up."

"Maybe you were, but that doesn't make it any less true. You guys have all got other things going on. Mikey, you've got your adventures with Renet, and your cooking. Raph, you've got Casey and the bike. Sensei, you have your meditation, and the Daimyo and the Ancient One. All I've got is this…. I don't know, maybe call it a quest."

"That's not all you've got. You've got family, bro!" Michelangelo emphasized his point by rising to his feet and tossing an arm around Leonardo's shoulders. Leo's smile returned, but this time it was borne of politeness, rather than actual feeling.

"A quest is fine, but you are letting it consume you," Splinter counseled. "What is happening now is much like the early days after Donatello's death. Through your suffering, you are not seeing the forest for the trees."

"I don't follow," Leo said.

"Why are you doing this without us?" Raphael asked, picking up on Splinter's prompt.

"To keep you guys safe. That's always been my job. Michelangelo can be the guardian of the timescape, and you can be the vigilante savior of the city. My most important duty is to this family."

"Well, we never asked you for that," Raphael said, springing to his feet to stand in front of his brothers. "You're making yourself out to be some sort of martyr when we're perfectly capable of protecting ourselves. Everyone in this family looks out for one another. Everyone. We don't need you to fall on your sword for us."

"Besides," Michelangelo added, "You're so busy trying to save the family that you haven't even noticed how much we've been growing apart."

"I've noticed you've been spending more and more time with Renet, if that's what you mean," Leonardo pointed out.

"Yeah, dude, because it's depressing around here. You and Raphael are always fighting. Everyone is all stressed out and sad."

"Well that's just kind of life, isn't it, Mikey?" Leo replied.

"It doesn't have to be, though!" Mikey burst out with excitement. "The streets of New York may be dangerous for us now, but there's an infinite number of places we could go that are just plain awesome! We could enter the next Battle Nexus Tournament. We could have Renet drop us 100 years in the future. Heck, we could just hang out at the Farmhouse."

"We can't leave here!" Leonardo said this as though the very thought was preposterous.

"Why not?" Splinter asked, sensing that his level-headedness and sense of authority was needed. "We have left here many times over the years. What is to stop us from leaving now?"

Leonardo was slow to respond, his mouth opening and closing a few times before any actual words came out. "Because we don't know…" There was a long pause. Everyone expected him to say, "who is after us," or something along those lines. When he did finish the sentence, it was so quiet that they wouldn't have heard it if they weren't listening so carefully. "...if there's anything more to be done about Donatello."

"Oh, I should've known!" Raphael exploded. He didn't mean to sound so harsh, he just wasn't good at speaking about these sensitive subjects. Seeing Leonardo hurting hurt him too, and when he was hurt, he lashed out. "I should've known that's where you were going with this! Donnie is dead, Leo. He ain't getting any deader if we decide to leave the city. And no matter how hard you're working, he ain't coming back to life!"

"I know," Leo yelled, subconsciously taking a step back. "I know he's not coming back to life! I just feel like there's a connection here we need to find. Call it instinct. I know you don't agree, that's why I'm doing it on my own! And I'm not asking you to help, but in turn, you can't ask me to give it up!"

"Oh yes we can," Raphael insisted. "Yes, we can! Give it up, Leo. We're begging you. Give it up before you get yourself killed!"

"How dare you, of all people, ask me to give up something this important?! How many times did I beg you to give up the vigilantism, Raph?! How many times?!" Leonardo yelled.

"I. DID." Raphael yelled back, pausing between words for emphasis. When Leonardo let out a sarcastic laugh, he continued. "You, know, I really resent you implying that I'm a liar. I stopped that as soon as our enemies began shooting at us. You may think that I'm an idiot, but I do recognize that I'm not impervious to bullets. You asked me to stop, so I stopped. You, on the other hand, seem to think that running around by yourself at all hours of the night is just fine."

"I'm being careful," Leonardo defended.

"Oh yeah? Because that gash on your arm tells me otherwise," Raphael astutely pointed out.

"Stop it you guys!" Michelangelo begged, throwing himself into the small gap between his brothers. "Why does everything always need to turn into a fight with you two? Leo, just come somewhere safe with us! We can have an adventure, be a real family again."

"I can't. I can't abandon Donnie. You can't ask me to do that!" Leo cried.

"You can't abandon someone who is already dead!" Raphael loudly reasoned. "If anything, it's you who is abandoning the rest of us. Don't you see that? You're gonna get yourself killed, Leo, and maybe even Mikey and I along with ya!"

"Just like I got Donnie killed? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"No, Leo, will you listen to yourself? The only one who blames you for what happened to Don is you! You've gotta let it go, if not for your sake then for ours!"

"Let it go? What, like you have? Just give up on Donnie entirely?"

"Donnie is dead, Leo!" Raphael shouted. "He's dead! He's dead! He's dead! What's it going to take for you to finally accept it? How many more times are you going to force the rest of us to relive it? He's dead and he wouldn't want you to be joining him so soon. This has gotta stop. Do it for him, Leo!"

Leonardo spread his arms. "I am doing this for him! I'm the only one thinking of him these days. You guys just gave up on him because it's easier!"

"You think it's easier?" Raphael sputtered. "It's not. Deluding yourself is easier!"

"That's enough of this!" Splinter yelled. He'd been content to let his sons vent their emotions, because everything needed to be heard if they were to learn how to heal, but this was spiraling out of control. "It's not easy for anyone. You can't compare one person's pain to another's. There are no winners at that game. We are all still hurting, and the stress of being hunted is only making things worse. Therefore, I agree that some time away would be best."

The voice of his father had a momentary calming effect on Leonardo. "You know what Donnie told me in his letter?" he asked in a slightly quieter voice. "He said that I have to fight for you, even if it means fighting with you. So, that's what I'm doing now. I'm not in the business of giving up on brothers, be they living or dead. I'm staying here, and I'm going to keep doing what needs to be done to find some sort of justice for Donnie, and to make this city safe again for the rest of you. It's our home, and I'm not going to allow us to be driven out of it. Anyone who can't handle that is free to go. There's nothing I can do to stop you. Just know that when you're ready to come back, that I'll be here for you."

"Not if you're dead, you won't be," Raphael said, barely holding back tears, as he maintained his position inches from Leonardo. "Not if you're dead."

Leonardo returned Raphael's stare for a good ten seconds before responding. "Well, maybe not then," he said before heading towards his room.

Raphael stormed off in the direction of the garage.

Splinter let them go, fearing that if he forced the issue now, the rift between them would only grow.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be!" Michelangelo yelled to his brothers retreating shells.

* * *

 _Leonardo ran through the dark night. He was all alone. There was no one there to help him when he finally fell._

The dream had been the same, night after night for what seemed like years now. Donatello couldn't escape it, any more than Leo could escape the blade as it closed in on him. It was so vivid - the fear, the blood, the desolation, the thump Leo's body made when it hit the ground. Sometimes it was the Leonardo that Donatello had last seen on the night of his kidnapping, sometimes it was the Leonardo that Donnie had met in Drako's future, but it was always Leonardo.

The cell door opened, pulling Donatello from one nightmare into another. Something clattered onto the ground in front of him. He lifted his throbbing head and squinted in the hopes of counteracting his double vision. "What's this?" He slurred.

"You don't recognize it? Perhaps our little experiments have been somewhat successful after all," Pseudo-Shredder sneered."

Donatello dragged himself closer and reached out a shaky arm. The item was cool and metallic. He could make out an area of blue, and gasped as he struggled to reach it. His fingertips found the edge of the blue patch, and he recognized the texture as leather. Steel and blue leather could mean only one thing. "Leonardo?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, so you do remember," Pseudo-Shredder said with an air of disappointment.

Donatello ignored him. "What does this mean?" he whimpered. "You have him?"

"Why would I take Leonardo? I have no use for him," Pseudo-Shredder responded coldly.

"Then why do you have this?"

"It's proof of death, Donatello. I told you what the consequences would be if you did not start cooperating."

Don blanched. He knew that his family had been threatened, but they were highly trained ninja. They wouldn't fall easily. With Donatello himself gone, they would've been on high alert. Despite what the Pseudo-Shredder had threatened, Donnie honestly thought they'd be safe. Had he been wrong? Panic began rising in his chest.

Donatello realized he was getting ahead of himself, and took a calming breath. "A sword isn't proof of death. How do I even know this is real?"

"Well you don't, I suppose. But search your heart Donatello, you know that your brother would never abandon his weapon willingly. And you are free to examine the blade as closely as you like. I know that you are no threat to me, even armed."

Donnie furrowed his brow. The old tin can was right about that. He probably couldn't win a thumb wrestling match with a kindergartner at this point. Pseudo-Shredder nudged the blade closer with his toes, and Donatello managed to grasp it. He turned it around in his hand, felt the weight and the balance. This was Leo's blade. He could sense his brother in it. Donnie held back tears as he ran his fingers lovingly over the leather. Leonardo couldn't be dead.

Donnie's voice was as soft as a church mouse, but it had an edge of ferocity befitting a caged lion. "We both know I'm not stupid. I'll concede that this is Leonardo's weapon, and I'll acknowledge that he wouldn't have given it up willingly, but I don't believe that he's gone. If he was, you'd had more proof than this."

"Believe whatever you like, reptile, but it won't change the facts. The next time we claim one of your own, we'll be sure to present you with his head."

Don rolled over, turning his damaged back to his captor. He heard the clunk of the cell door as Pseudo-Shredder left. He didn't want to believe that Leonardo was gone. This really wasn't proof. But still, he couldn't escape the memory of the dream he'd been pulled from.

"Oh, Leo," Don whispered into the darkness. "Please don't let this be true." He didn't care if the guards could hear him. It didn't matter. Nothing he said or did made any difference anymore.

Before the kidnapping, Donatello was vaguely aware that there were very few people that would have ever envied his life. The funny thing was, Donnie himself had loved his life, and wouldn't have changed a thing about it. His life had been remarkable. His love for his family was as boundless as his curiosity and thirst for knowledge. He'd created so much, loved and been loved so deeply, and had so many wonderful adventures. The flame of his soul had burned brightly, and the warmth and light of his memories had helped carry him through this dark time.

Unfortunately, though, there were times that those memories had the opposite effect. His past seemed so distant, now that the time since he had last been free and happy was measured in years. It was like the life that he had was some faraway fire that he could still see flickering in the distance, but was hopeless to reach.

Prior to this nightmare, he'd always maintained a mental connection to his family, and his inability to reach them still weighed heavily on him. That piece of his mind that had always known exactly where they were during battle, or when someone was hurting was just a gaping hole now. It was a sucking void taking on mass like a black hole, threatening to consume him. As much as he didn't want to believe that his family was dead or dying, that emptiness where they used to be was undeniable.

The grief was crushing him. This mental agony outweighed the physical agony tenfold, but he had to keep going. If that terrible future he had foreseen truly was about to play out, and he really was destined to become the last of his family, then all their shared memories would be his and his alone. If he died, they would all die again with him. It would be as though they never existed.

The waste if it all was perhaps the worst part of this. Donatello had a mind that was capable of amazing things. He had hands that could build what others never even dreamed of, eyes that could look at a pile of junk and see a world of possibilities. He had a heart capable of deep, deep love. All of that was going to waste. There was nothing to build, no problem to solve, and worst of all, no one to love or love him.

Don hated waste. There were few things he hated, even now, but he never had any tolerance for wastefulness. He himself was being wasted, and it broke what was left of his heart. He would have happily died on the battlefield to protect some other living being. If he had been dissected and studied, at least he would've died for the advancement of science. But to face this pointless existence day after day, to not have any purpose to his life other than to serve as a receptacle for pain, this was a fate worse than death.

* * *

 **Well, that wraps up this part of the story. The escape will begin in the next chapter, although it will still be a little while longer until Donnie makes it all the way back home. As the title would imply, this story is really meant to focus upon the readjustment period after all of these events. Quite frankly, I can't believe that I managed to stretch this part of the story out over 19 chapters! So, thanks for reading and sticking with me for this long! I really do appreciate it when someone takes the time to comment, follow, or review. I'm looking forwards to the next part, and I hope that you are too!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Two Years Later**

Donatello was fast asleep when it happened. He rarely slept deeply anymore, because of the drugs the Shredder constantly tested on him and the nightmares that he couldn't seem to escape. However, he was sick again, and on this particular night he had been given a break from the ongoing experimentation and managed to fall into a deep, fever-induced slumber. Therefore, it came as a huge shock when he awoke to the sound of an alarm blaring through the walls of his cell. His heart immediately began hammering in his chest, and his bleary eyes shot open to seek the source of the disturbance. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, the chains that perpetually bound him tightened, snapping him back to an elevated and drawn position. Completely unprepared, he cried out in surprise and pain as his left shoulder was torn from its socket and his leg screamed at the sudden change.

Being pulled into the wall had only ever signaled one thing - an impending visit from the Shredder. Clearly, this time was different. Donnie had never heard a siren in the prison before, and for once, the guards' attention was not on him. They were readying their weapons and speaking amongst themselves. Donatello was unable to make out what they were saying through the thick walls of his cell, but it was obvious that chaos was erupting. He could only assume that this was some sort of raid. Donnie went light headed with anticipation.

Foolish though it may have been, he had been working on a long-term escape plan. It was extremely difficult, given the constant surveillance, but ever since had first been released from the wall, Donnie had been slowly loosening a portion of the drainage grate. The drain was only a few inches deep, far too shallow to serve as an escape route, but the metal grate that covered it would provide him with a weapon if he could break a significant enough piece off. It was a project that he had been working on gradually, in bits and pieces. His hope was that if he could make it look like regular corrosion, the damage might escape the guards' notice. Over the course of years, he only worked on it for a few minutes at a time, so that they wouldn't realize what he was doing. The grate wasn't quite ready to break yet, but a small sliver of metal had recently splintered off. Donatello had been holding onto that sliver of metal as though it was his last lifeline. Given how much his body had deteriorated, there was a pretty good chance that it was.

With adrenaline racing through his veins, Donnie began desperately picking at the lock on the manacle securing his right wrist. He angled his hand in a way that he hoped covered up the activity. Donnie worked frantically while he kept a close eye on the guards. It was helpful that all six were grouped together for once, rather than standing in pairs.

While he had lost a step or two over the years, Donatello eventually heard a telltale click. He grasped the chain so that the manacle didn't open, and waited for a moment when all six guards were distracted. When a good opportunity presented itself, he quickly pulled his arm out and transferred the metal to his left hand. He then had to swiftly return his right hand to its previous position, so that the change wasn't noticed. While he was too busy to celebrate, it wasn't lost on Donnie that this was the first time in years that one of his wrists wasn't locked in chains. It was a strange sort of freedom that he hadn't been expecting.

Donatello needed to work quickly on his remaining limbs. He was fully aware that his strength wouldn't hold out for long. There was no turning back now. He just hoped that this wouldn't end with his shell getting bashed in again.

Given his injured shoulder, freeing the left arm was more difficult than freeing the right. When he finally managed, he was shaking all over. He couldn't hold on, and slid down the wall, clutching his shoulder to protect it. He considered snapping it into place, but he feared passing out, so instead he tried his best to ignore it as he began picking the locks on his ankles.

Donnie managed to completely free himself without the guards turning their attention back to him. The lack of manacles around his wrists and ankles felt foreign. He had grown used to their weight and the jingling of the chains that sounded with each movement. Now that he could move more quietly, Donnie felt almost like a ninja again. He scrambled as best he could and reached the portion of the drainage grate that he had been working to loosen. Although this project had been years in the making, it still wasn't ready for prime time. Donnie kicked it into high gear, gripping one of the manacles with his good arm and using it to grind away more of the metal grate. What remained of his natural strength was sapped by illness and injury, but he put everything that he had left into the work.

Suddenly, Donnie noticed how quiet the guards had grown. He looked up to check on them, fearing an imminent attack. The spot that they had grouped in was now empty. Donatello cringed, expecting them to bear down on him. Glancing backwards, he saw that no one was there. Casting his eyes around the translucent walls of his prison, he found that there wasn't anyone visible at all. The steel door that led to the prison area had been left open. If he could somehow find a way to break out of the cell, maybe he could sneak out the door? Donnie stopped working the grate to focus on listening.

The familiar and unmistakable sound of a battle rang out from somewhere down the hall, and Donatello surmised that the likelihood of sneaking past it without being noticed would be low. Donnie knew that he would feel much more secure with a weapon or two. He returned to his work, using all his weight to press down on the manacle. He didn't know what was going on, but he'd been a victim for too long. This was his first true chance to escape, and he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

The sounds of the battle grew louder. Donatello gave up on grinding and grasped the grate with his good arm. He pulled with all his might, holding his breath as he poured all his energy into the activity. The illness compromising his lungs made taking in air very difficult, but he pulled as hard as he possibly could. At first nothing happened, but he kept at it, even as he watched the door. Finally, just as dark spots were beginning to overtake his vision, Donnie was rewarded with a snap. He tumbled backwards onto his shell. The edge of one of the damaged sections drove deeper into his skin, and his dislocated arm flopped awkwardly, but he didn't notice due to an overpowering sense of elation. A small portion of the grate had broken free! It wasn't much, but the sharp ends could serve as a blade. Donnie scrambled back to his knee, took the jagged piece of metal, and began pounding the sharpest part against one of the chains that had formerly bound him. The more weapons he had at his disposal, the better, and if he could manage to free the chain, it would be longer range than the improvised blade. He would need that advantage, given that he had no speed, and he didn't stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat.

Hurried footsteps approached, causing Donnie to drop the chain. A small band of men he didn't recognize filed towards the cell and stopped at the still-locked door. Donnie didn't know who these people were, but they had clearly won the battle with the guards. Having no idea if he was facing friend or foe, Donnie dropped his makeshift knife and hid it beneath his good foot. He didn't want to hurt anyone that might be innocent. Aware that he may still need to defend himself, Donnie wound the chain, which remained attached to the wall, around both hands. He eyed the door wearily. The men studied him with shocked expressions on their faces, but made no attempt to communicate.

After a muffled conversation, one of the men, dressed in a tactical uniform, stepped forward and pulled something from his pocket. Donnie couldn't make out what it was, but he appeared to be applying it to the lock. After a few moments, there was a blast. Now the area where the door's locking mechanism had been was merely a smoking hole. The same man stepped forward and fussed around with the wiring until the door popped open. Donnie gasped in shock, but remained frozen in place. Freedom seemed so close that he could taste it. He was free of chains, the doors to his cell and the hallway were open. Liberation was right there for the taking, but he'd never make it past these newcomers.

Three of the men entered Donnie's cell, weapons drawn and at the ready. Donnie shrunk back in response, weakly lifting the chain in front of him with his good arm. "I-I'm no threat to you. Please - please let me be."

"It can talk," the man in the lead declared, locking utterly shocked.

"No shit, Sherlock. We all heard it. So, what do we do now?" another man asked.

"Damned if I know. Call in the Commander."

One of the three men had stayed silent, just examining Donnie with an intensely curious gaze. Donnie thought that it was the same man who had opened the door. Something about this his quiet, intelligent stare and the way that he carried himself made Donnie feel that this man may be a kindred spirit. It was to him that Donnie directed his attention. "Hi," he said.

"Uh, hello," the man replied, clearly caught off guard.

"W-who are you guys?" Donatello stuttered, his voice hoarse with illness and neglect.

"We're with the FBI," the man in the lead declared. "And just what the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I'm a t-turtle. My name is Donatello." Donnie really wished the other guy had responded, instead of the leader. He could tell that he wasn't going to be able to handle being barked at very well, and this guy seemed awfully rough around the edges.

"You don't look like any turtle I've ever seen," the man in the lead responded. "And, I've never heard of a talking turtle either. Are you the result of some sort of experiment they were running? Were you born here?"

"I was m-mutated in an accident, but not by them. They caught me years ago, but b-before that, I was f-free."

The leader turned towards his men. "Something like this, running free? Have you guys heard of such a thing?"

The men shook their heads no, just as someone new entered the scene.

"Commander," one of the men greeted. "Take a look at this." He then nodded in Donatello's direction as though he were pointing out a roadside attraction rather than a living being.

"What is it?" the Commander asked.

"Says it's a turtle. It can talk," the man in the lead explained.

Donatello didn't know what to do, but he did know that he didn't want to fight these guys. There was no way he could win. Plus, they claimed to be FBI. If they were telling the truth, that meant they were the good guys. "M-my name is Donatello. I mean you no harm. I'm just a prisoner here, but I'd never hurt anyone. All I want is to go h-home." He couldn't stop the words from escaping his lips, even though he knew there was no way it would be that simple. "I just want my fa-family. Please."

The Commander turned to his team. "I'll handle this. Go assist the others in securing the facility. Tell no one about what you saw here. If I hear so much as a peep about talking turtles, your careers are toast. Got it?"

The men nodded and jogged off, leaving Donatello alone with the Commander. Five years ago, being captured by the government would have been Donnie's worst nightmare. Now, he couldn't help but be hopeful. Anything would be better than what he had been enduring.

Donatello locked eyes with the Commander and slowly raised his hands as best he could with his dislocated shoulder. Now that it was one-on-one, and there were no guns pointed at his face, Donnie felt a bit calmer, his frantic heartbeat steadying. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "Listen. I have a piece of metal beneath my foot. I was only going to use it if I needed to protect myself. I'm not going to hurt you, but please don't come any closer. Just, please, please tell me what you are going to do with me. Please."

The Commander looked Donatello up and down in consideration. He frowned a bit, but kept his thoughts to himself. "I don't know. We certainly weren't expecting to encounter...this."

"W-What were you expecting then?" Donnie wheezed. While his illness was unfortunate, he hoped that at least it reinforced how little of a threat he posed.

"I don't see why I owe you an explanation. What's your condition?"

"I'm sick, and I'm hurt - my leg and my shoulder, mainly."

"Can you walk?"

"A little, I think." Truthfully, Donatello hadn't had the chance to walk in years. He was able to pace his cell a bit, but it never lasted long. He wasn't sure if his bad leg could hold his weight for more than a couple of minutes, and being ill wouldn't help.

The Commander slowly approached Donatello, whose arms were still in the air. He slapped a pair of handcuffs around Donnie's wrists. The freedom had been nice while it lasted.

"Come on," the Commander prodded.

"Where are we going?" Donnie asked as he pushed himself to begin moving. He stepped of off the piece of grate that he had salvaged so carefully. All those years of work, and it hadn't been needed at all.

"I'm taking you to headquarters," the Commander explained. "You're above my pay grade. Plus, you need to get checked out. Given all the chemicals that my men have located around here, it's possible that you've been exposed to something."

The Commander insisted on blindfolding Donnie before leaving the cell. This struck Donnie as strange, but there was no point in arguing. The Commander also wrapped Donnie in a blanket, supposedly to hide him from others. His existence was to remain a secret, apparently. Donatello had always hated wearing clothes, but the feel of the smooth cotton around him was quite comforting. The seemingly childish concept of security blankets suddenly made a lot of sense.

The Commander guided Donatello to where he wanted him to go, keeping his hands clasped on either side of Donnie's blanketed shell. It was a good thing, too, because it didn't take long for Donatello's feet to fail him. It wasn't a long walk to the elevator, where Donnie was mercifully allowed to rest against the wall. He tried to time how long the elevator ride took, curious as to how deep underground he had been. He couldn't see the buttons through the blindfold, but it felt like at least three or four stories. This place must have been quite the bunker.

After exiting the elevator and slowly navigating some twisted hallways, Donatello was ushered into the backseat of a car that zigzagged around for twenty minutes. The blindfold remained in place, but Donnie heard the sounds of a city, and was aware from the movement of the car that they never merged onto a highway. The Commander confirmed that they were in New York. Despite how far away he felt, Donnie had been very close to home this whole time. He clutched the blanket tightly around himself, drawing a bit of much-needed strength from it. It was unsettling, being blindfolded and feeling motion, after years of being in exactly the same spot.

Before he knew it, Donatello was locked in yet another room, where his blindfold and the handcuffs were finally removed. The Commander explained that he needed to be kept in isolation while the head honchos figured out a course of action. For the time being, he was going to be staying at the small 'detention center.' Call it what they may, Donnie knew another prison when he saw it.

Fortunately, this prison was decidedly friendlier than the last. Most importantly, there were no chains. Donatello was eminently thankful for that. He could roam the small cell if he so desired, although there was no way that he was capable at the moment. He was still exhausted and shaky from the walk between the car and the detention center, and his leg was throbbing so much that he could feel it in the corners of his eyes.

The cell itself was floor to ceiling concrete, with a single, iron-barred door. There were two guards, posted there, but they stood with their backs to him rather than watching him intently at all times like their predecessors had. While there wasn't an actual bed, there was a bench built into the wall with a thin bedroll placed atop it. There was also a small and relatively private toilet area in the back corner. This place was the Taj Mahal compared to his last enclosure.

 **Kind of an abrupt finish to the chapter, I know. I had to cut it off here, or it was going to be a** **behemoth** **. The next chapter picks up right where this one leaves off. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for all of your feedback!**


	21. Chapter 21

The Commander locked Donatello in his cell and disappeared after a brief word with the guards. Donnie curled up on the bedroll and closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the simple pleasures that he had been deprived of for so long - a cushion, a blanket, a bit of privacy. Sleep was beckoning him, but he knew that he had to figure some things out first. If he had learned anything from his capture, it was that he needed to thoroughly assess any new situation immediately, before becoming complacent. The fever burning through him made it hard to concentrate, but ever the scientist, Donnie absorbed what details he could. There were at least a few other cells in this prison, but they looked to be empty. No sounds reached his ears, and there were no other guards at the cell across from his own. The two guards posted at his own door wore matching uniforms complete with holstered guns, but they seemed far less hostile than than those at his previous prison. There was a certain air of joviality and camaraderie between them, which was nice to see.

Donnie massaged his temples and swept the sweat from his forehead before returning to clutching his dislocated shoulder. He badly wanted to reset it, but his recent illness had left him too weak to do it by hand, and there was not much in his cell to aid him. He supposed that he could tie the blanket around his wrist and run it through the bars of the doors, then create enough leverage to pop his arm back into the joint. But, he was afraid of making a scene or looking suspicious in front of the guards. Years of trauma had conditioned him to be as meek and unnoticeable as possible at all times. It seemed better to quietly suffer through it, as always.

Just as Donnie was closing his eyes in the hopes of getting some rest, the clicking of heels in the hallway pulled him from his reverie. The Commander re-appeared, accompanied by a well-dressed man. The guards immediately allowed the twosome into the cell. The newcomer waved the Commander into the corner and approached Donatello. "How are you?" he asked.

Donnie reluctantly released the blanket, then carefully sat up and stared, unsure if he was experiencing a fever dream. Nobody had spoken to him with anything approaching concern in years, and he didn't know how to handle it. He narrowed his eyes, but the vision stayed the same.

"Fine?" he said, his voice rising as though it were a question.

The man chuckled. "Funny, you don't look fine. But then I suppose I don't know what's normal for your species."

His species? This felt dangerously close to his childhood nightmares. He shuddered as thoughts of dissection, a sterile, hidden lab, and faceless government scientists swam through his mind. This guy reminded Donnie a lot of Bishop, actually. Another shudder ran through him at the mere thought of that lunatic.

"You look rather asymmetrical. That's not common in earthly nature." The man continued. He was staring at Donatello's shoulder, but he could have been referring to the leg as well.

"It's considered a mark of virility amongst my people," Donnie replied with a hint of a smile, rather impressed with his own self-perceived cleverness given this weird position he had found himself in.

The well-dressed man raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you."

"As well you shouldn't," Donnie coughed. "Look, I'm not an alien or whatever you seem to think I am. I'm from Earth."

"You don't look like any terrestrial being that I've ever met."

Donnie sighed, knowing how unbelievable this would sound. "I started off as a common turtle. It's a long story, and fair warning, I'm sick with who knows what and possibly contagious. You might want to give me a wide berth." Donnie coughed again as if to emphasize his point, clutching his shoulder harder to protect it from the movement.

"Did they infect you with something?"

"Possibly. Could've just been the conditions. Who knows?" Donatello was getting very tired of talking. He'd barely spoken in years, and having to explain himself over and over again was wearing him out. The illness certainly wasn't helping matters.

"I'm going to order a full medical evaluation. If they were testing some sort of biological weapon on you, we need to know now."

Now there was a frightening thought. Donnie found that he didn't know what to say. One the one hand, he didn't know this guy from a hole in the ground, and a "full medical evaluation" could be a fancy way of saying "dissection and autopsy." On the other hand, Donatello couldn't help but get his hopes up just a little. Pretty much anything would be an improvement over his previous situation, and for all he knew he was dying anyway. It sure felt like he was. "Okay," he answered out of politeness, even though it was clear that he had little choice in the matter. He wasn't feeling the need to add "patient zero" to his resume.

"I'm told that your name is Donatello?"

"Yes, but you can call me Don, if you prefer. I know it's a mouthful."

"All right, Donatello. My name is Declan. I'm one of the analysts here, and it was me who ordered the raid on the facility where you were… discovered."

"Held. I was being held," Donnie clarified

"The team did report that you were locked in a cell and kept under heavy guard." Declan looked to the Commander, who nodded obediently. "Can you tell me how that came to be?"

"I was kidnapped."

"Really? And you had no prior association with this group?" Declan asked. "You were just taken at random?"

"It wasn't random. They targeted me." If Donatello wasn't so scared, he might have pointed out that this should've been obvious. He was a giant, talking turtle, after all. It's not like he was just waltzing down the street, minding his own business when someone randomly decided to grab him. People don't just stumble over mutated turtle ninjas.

"Do you know why you were targeted, then?" Declan asked

Donatello remained purposefully vague, staring down at his green fingers and mumbling. "I have certain… unique abilities that they wanted to use."

"Such as what?"

Donnie rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm fairly intelligent, and I used to be considered a pretty good fighter."

Declan look skeptical. "Alright, but how would they have known that if you had no prior association with this group?"

Now Donnie was feeling defensive. "How should I know? I told you, I was kidnapped. That's all there is to it. I was never, ever, working with those guys, if that's what you're implying."

Declan backed down a little at Donnie's passionate response. "I'm not implying anything. I'm just trying to gather all the facts and keep an open mind. That's my job. Developing opinions too early isn't a good idea in my line of work. So, can you tell me when the kidnapping occurred?"

When Donatello answered, Declan appeared shocked at home much time had elapsed. Ironically, Donnie was surprised at how little time had passed. He had no way of keeping accurate track of the days, particularly given how often he was subjected to mind-altering drug trials. It felt like he had been gone forever, but it turned out that it had been just shy of four years.

"Are you sure you were there that long, and that you were never moved?" Declan asked, as they went over the timeline again.

"I'm positive that I was never moved, and if I'm being honest, it felt like I was there for a heck of a lot longer than four years... Why is this so surprising to you?" Donatello replied.

"Because, we didn't know about this group at all until six months ago. If they were already operating at the facility we found you at four years ago... Well, it means that we don't know nearly as much about them as we thought we did."

Donatello coughed, lifting his good arm to cover his mouth. "This group… What _do_ you know about them?" he wheezed.

"Not as much as you, I'm sure. I'm going to need you to tell me everything that you know, Donatello. And, I can't tell you anything until I'm sure that I can trust you, and that you're not working with them."

Donatello swallowed hard, which triggered another coughing spasm. "Look at me," he said, when he was able to breathe again. "Just look at me. Talk to your men about the place where they found me. Do you really think that I might have been working with them?"

The Commander had been dutifully stationed in the corner all this time, and hadn't spoken up. Declan turned and made eye contact with him, looking for confirmation. The Commander shook his head solemnly, but remained silent.

Declan rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Honestly? No, of course I don't think you were working with them. But then again, it's not unheard of for allies to turn on each other."

"We were never allies. You can hook me up to whatever lie detector you like. I never set eyes upon my kidnapper prior to the day that I was taken."

"I want to believe you, Donatello. I truly do. It will just take time."

Donatello nodded and coughed again. Declan looked concerned with the increasing frequency of these spells, and Donatello held up a finger to keep him in place. "Whatever I have to do I'll do it. I swear."

"Okay. I don't think you're well enough to have this conversation now. I'm going to send someone in to collect some samples, then we'll get you cleaned up and fed. We can talk tomorrow, after I've had some time to think, and sort through all of the data that we obtained today."

Donatello nodded. It's not like he could go anywhere. Declan and the Commander began to leave, before Donatello stopped them with a hoarse plea. "Wait!.. My f-family… Do you know of any others like me?" Donnie asked brokenly. His eyes were watering from more than just his illness. He knew that asking was probably a mistake, but he'd had so many nightmares. If there were answers, he needed to know.

Declan exchanged another look with the Commander before speaking. "Listen. I don't know anything personally, but if I expect complete honesty from you, I guess that means I should offer you the same. And to be honest, I have heard rumors."

"Rumors?" Don asked, going lightheaded.

"Yes. Only rumors - of a specimen that meets your description."

"A specimen? L-living or dead?"

"Dead. But Donatello, they were only rumors. Until I saw you, I thought they were far too outlandish to be believed."

"Was there any clothing? Any weapons? Anything?" Donatello begged.

"I'll ask around. I do recall that there was supposedly a mask, and some sort of spike-like weapon."

Donnie hadn't been wearing a mask when he was brought in. It was stripped from him long ago, so these guys had no way of knowing that a mask would have been meaningful. And, the spike-like weapon could certainly be a sai. Donnie's mind immediately went to Raphael, his strong, passionate, fiery brother. "Was the mask a certain color?" he asked quietly.

"If I remember correctly, it was red. I could be wrong. Is that significant somehow?"

Donnie slumped over and shook his head no, not wanting to talk anymore. How could he explain anyway? Declan left, with the promise of talking tomorrow. The Commander was right behind him.

Donatello's feverish mind tried desperately to make sense of what he had just heard. It couldn't be true. It was just a rumor, he told himself. It had to be. Maybe someone saw Raphael, and that's when the talk started. Raphael always did like to play the role of vigilante, making him the turtle most likely to be seen by others. Donatello refused to believe he was dead. He had to reject that thought, if he were to gather the strength needed to move forward. He had to put it out of his mind. He'd had years of practice at ignoring lies and nightmares. Fortunately, his depressing reverie was interrupted by the appearance of someone new in the cell.

Donatello cowered as a medic approached him with a tray of syringes and other medical paraphernalia. Donnie used to be fearless, but thanks to his years of mistreatment, the mere sight of a needle sent him spiraling into an internalized panic attack. In turn, the medic seemed to have a hard time covering up his own distaste. Granted, Donnie was dirty, smelly, and obviously sick, but it seemed to go deeper than that. The medic wasn't the least bit gentle or careful with Donatello's obvious injuries, and didn't make any effort to speak or explain what he was doing at all. While he dutifully collected blood samples and other specimens, he didn't bother treating any of Donnie's injuries, nor did he offer so much as an aspirin. Donatello even caught the guy grimacing whenever he had to make any sort of physical contact, even through gloves. 'Nice to know where I stand, at least,' Donnie thought.

When the exam was finished, the Commander returned with a bucket and a brown paper bag. At this point, Donnie was growing quite tired of the constant parade of people coming in and out of his cell. He yearned for some peace and quiet. He desperately wanted to nap away the worst of his spiking fever, and begin to process everything that had happened today. As terrible as his imprisonment had been, he had grown accustomed to being left alone for long tracts of time. Being exposed to new people and having to talk when he didn't want to was really draining him. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

The Commander set the bucket near the sink, and pulled a tuna fish sandwich out of the bag. "I know you haven't eaten in awhile," he said as he approached Donatello with the offering. "We weren't sure what to get you, but we read that most turtles eat fish."

Donnie valiantly suppressed the urge to snatch the sandwich and inhale it in one bite. Upon seeing the food, he realized that he was starving. He'd grown so used to being deprived of meals that his body almost didn't expect to eat on a regular basis anymore. Case in point, he was pretty sure that he hadn't eaten in a day or so, but it had gone unnoticed until the food appeared. Instead of lunging at the sandwich and dragging it off into the corner like an overprotective scavenger, Donnie politely thanked the Commander before taking the sandwich with his good arm and beginning to nibble at it. He didn't detect any hints of tampering, but it was better to eat it slowly, just in case. Tuna had never been his favorite, but this was the first real food he'd eaten in years. Usually he was only given flavorless, mushy, oatmeal-like feed. He couldn't remember anything ever tasting this good.

After Donatello had taken a few precious bites, the Commander asked him to hold on for a moment, and Donnie reluctantly but obediently placed the food back on top of the bag. "No one has helped you with your arm yet?" the Commander barked. Donnie shook his head 'no' and coughed.

"For crying out loud," the Commander complained. With surprising gentleness, he popped the arm back into the joint, massaging the muscles for a moment afterwards, as everything readjusted back to the proper placement. To Donnie's credit, he managed not to pass out, although he couldn't quite suppress his yelp of surprise and pain. He tested the arm a bit. It hurt, but he could use it.

"Thanks," Donnie said, keeping his watery eyes downcast. "I wasn't expecting that."

The Commander let out a long, frazzled breath. "Listen, kid. We don't want you to feel like a prisoner here. We're just being cautious right now, since we don't know what you are or what you've been exposed to. But, from what I've seen, we've got nothing to fear from you. You were honest with me about your weapon. You came with me willingly and haven't put up any sort of fight."

Donnie's foggy brain took in the words, but he didn't bother trying to speak. He was finally being treated like an actual living being, and he didn't want to say or do anything that would screw it up.

"Declan is a good analyst and a reasonable guy," the Commander continued. "After we've processed more of the intel we collected, if it indeed proves that you're no threat to us, we'll work on better accommodations for you. We're also going to figure out what we can about your family. In the meantime, you should expect to be treated with basic human kindness and decency. We're the FBI, we're not the bad guys. If you've got any problems, you can report them to me."

"Please don't… Don't look into my family," Donnie begged. "They wouldn't want to be found… And, if it turns out that they're dead, I don't think that I'd be able to take it… Just forget I mentioned them, please. I wasn't in my right mind."

The Commander shook his head. Now that they were sitting face to face, Donnie could see from his nameplate that his name was Davis. "You already bought them up to Declan. He's not going to just forget about it now," the Commander explainer.

Donnie sighed. How could he have been so stupid? "What will happen to them, if you guys find them?" he asked. "You're not going to hurt them, are you?"

"Why would we hurt them?" Davis asked. "Have we done anything to hurt you?"

Donnie shook his head 'no.' They hadn't yet, anyway. Although, they hadn't had much of a chance.

"If you're on our side, if you pose no threat, we've got no reason to hurt you. If anything we want you to help us," Commander Davis explained.

"Help you?"

"Help you take down our mutual enemy. Like Declan said, we know next to nothing about the guys that imprisoned you. We just know that they were dealing in weapons and chemicals."

Donnie didn't know much either, but he couldn't tell these guys that. He needed to be of use to them, if he wanted proper treatment. He wasn't sure how sick he was, or if he would need medications only they could offer. He wasn't even sure if he had a living family to go home to. "Nobody wants to see this group brought down more than I do… Trust me," Donnie said.

"Well, you treat us right, we'll treat you right. So, finish your sandwich, then get cleaned up. I left soap and some washcloths by the sink. Declan and I will talk to you tomorrow." Commander Davis clapped Donnie firmly on the shell before leaving.

Donatello smiled at the reassuring gesture, in spite of his own misgivings. He knew he shouldn't trust anyone yet, but it was hard not to. "Thanks," Donnie said as Commander Davis left the cell. "Have a good night." The Commander gave a militant nod in return, as he was ushered into the hallway by the guards.

Blissfully taking another bite of the sandwich, Donnie was so distracted by the resulting onslaught of signals from his long-dormant taste buds that he almost missed what happened next. Upon his exit, Commander Davis paused by the door to speak with someone who happened to be passing in the hallway. This seemingly-random passerby was dressed in civilian clothing, and cast a brief glance in Donatello's direction. The two momentarily caught each other's gazes, before Donnie dropped his eyes back to the sandwich. He tried his best not to convey any outward signs of shock or recognition.

For almost four years, Donatello had nothing to study, and nothing to look at other than the walls of his cell and what he could see of the guards. As a result, he had gotten to know them pretty well. Sure, their uniforms made them look alike, and most of their faces were covered by ninja masks. However, Donnie had always been a very observant turtle. Each guard had their own mannerisms, their own ways of walking and moving. After years of focusing his brilliant mind on nothing but them, he knew them all like the back of his hand.

That's why he was so confident in his assessment. It was one of his supposedly former guards that he had seen briefly talking to the Commander in the hall. Overall, the guard regiment had been pretty stable through the years, but there were some who had come and gone. Donnie hadn't seen this particular guard in a year or two. While the former guard was dressed differently, and he was behaving differently, Donatello was positive that it was him. His eyes were a slightly lighter shade of brown than the wispy hair that sometimes stuck out from his mask. He walked with perfect posture, befitting a warrior. Even though Donnie had only seen him for a moment, that was all it took.

It couldn't be a coincidence. Donatello's world came crashing down around him as he realized that this must mean one of two things. The first possibility was that this former guard was a spy for the Pseudo-Shredder, who had been planted at the FBI. The second, more frightening possibility was that this was not really the FBI at all. Could it be possible that this was really the same organization that had held him since the beginning? Was this just some new tactic they were trying after years of continuous failure?

Whichever scenario it was, the conclusion was the same - Donatello wasn't safe here. He knew it with the entirety of his body and soul. He had to get out!

 **He is getting out this time, I promise! It's all going down in the next chapter. As always, thanks for reading.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Here it is - The big escape chapter! I hope it was worth the wait. My heartfelt thanks to those of you who have commented, followed and favorited, and to those of you reading along. There is still much more to come.**

Soon after his unsettling revelation, Donatello passed out from physical and mental exhaustion and was rewarded with a few hours of undisturbed sleep. He felt a little bit better when he woke up. His fever had receded enough that he was able to quietly think about his situation. Fighting off an anxiety attack was another challenge, but he thought back to all his lessons from Master Splinter, and was able to calm himself.

The first thing that he assessed after clearing his mind was the supposed raid itself. All the fighting had taken place outside of the prison area, so he had never seen an actual battle. He had heard the sounds of one, but they could have easily been faked. Furthermore, all six guards had run off, presumably to join the fight. Given his apparent value to the Pseudo-Shredder, it seemed to Donnie that it would've made sense for at least one guard to have stayed and watched over him.

Then, there was his removal from the prison. Why had the raid team busted into his cell, rather than leaving him safely sealed up for later? It's not like he could have gone anywhere. They seemed to have secured the facility, so why was there any need to rush? Also, why had they blindfolded him? What did it matter if he saw the place where he was being held? Could it be that they had just driven him around for a bit and then brought him right back to a different area of the same building he had been imprisoned within all along?

The next thing he considered was the behavior of the "FBI" since they brought him here. The appearance of the familiar old guard aside, there were a lot of little things that were not adding up. Declan claimed to be worried that Donnie had been exposed to some toxin, and yet the cell that they kept him in was far from airtight. The guards, Declan, and Commander Davis all came and went at will. None of them wore so much as a mask. Commander Davis had even touched his skin without gloves. It seemed to Donatello that the real FBI would've been more cautious than that.

The guards that watched over him now didn't seem all that interested in him. He was a giant, talking turtle. You would think they would at least steal a few glances in his direction. And yet, they acted as though he was just another pretty face. Even the medic who had taken his samples hadn't seemed all that surprised or curious. Repulsed, yes, but intrigued, no. Declan and Commander Davis spoke to him as though he were nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Aside from the raid team that broke into his cell, everyone behaved as though he wasn't that unusual at all. Granted, this was supposedly the FBI, so they would've been used to uncommon circumstances, but it was almost as though they were expecting him.

Then Donnie thought about certain things that had been conveyed or implied, perhaps innocently, but perhaps intentionally. They had hinted that at least one member of his family was likely dead. They had told him that they needed his help. They had given him a potential goal, and therefore something to live for - helping them to take down the group that had so terribly wronged him.

This felt like the beginning of a classic case of good cop/bad cop. Donnie suspected that Pseudo-Shredder hadn't been able to get what he wanted, so he was trying another tactical change. Donnie prepared himself for the "FBI" to appeal to his sense of morality. If his supposition was correct, they were going to use the groundwork they were laying now to convince him to work with them. All that his captors had ever wanted was for Donnie to develop their tools and weapons, so that they would have a strategic edge against their enemies. If Donatello's theory was correct, the "FBI" was eventually going to ask him to do just that. If so, it could be surmised that these weren't the good guys at all. They were the same guys.

He had to get out of this place. Even if he was wrong, and this was really the FBI, the presence of the familiar guard alone was reason enough to attempt an escape. The question was, how could he pull it off? He wasn't in the best physical shape, or the best mental shape, for that matter.

Donatello looked around, taking in every detail that he could, no matter how minute. There were sprinklers in the hallway and in his cell. Clearly, he had plumbing in the "bathroom" area. He had a loose bedroll, a blanket, a washcloth, a bucket, soap, and the brown paper bag that had held the sandwich. He added it all to his mental inventory. It wasn't enough to work with, but something might help, somehow. He could only hope. Given that he had been completely hopeless and helpless for years, that alone felt pretty good.

Donnie enjoyed a few quiet hours of thinking and getting his head on straight. He also managed to develop the first few steps of a rudimentary escape plan. After a while, Declan and Commander Davis appeared with a banana, some orange juice, and a bagel with cream cheese. They found Donnie laying in bed with his eyes closed. Declan loudly cleared his throat. "Good morning, Donatello. How are you feeling?"

It was so obvious to Donatello that they were only pretending to be interested in his well-being to butter him up. "Okay," Donnie answered, trying to convey the impression that they had woken him.

"Some of your test results are in," Declan stated. "You're malnourished, but so far everything sinister is coming up negative. We brought you something to eat."

"Thanks," Donnie said, as he took the tray. He ate a few bites and then decided there was no reason not to execute the first part of his plan. It wasn't like him to be so spontaneous, but he knew the longer he waited, the more nervous he would become. Right now, he also had the element of surprise working to his advantage.

He needed to find out more about this facility. He was betting that if he faked a dire medical emergency, they would take him somewhere outside of his cell for treatment. Donnie only hoped that his acting skills had improved since his last escape attempt. He suddenly shrieked as loudly as he could with his raspy voice and clutched his head with both hands. The tray of food crashed to the floor. Both Declan and Commander Davis jumped to attention, the Commander catching Donnie as he dramatically flopped backwards.

"What is it?" Declan shouted. "Your head?"

Donnie thrashed in the Commander's arms, faking incoherence. He began gagging, then made a show of spewing the food that had been in his mouth in as many directions as possible, like some sort of deranged fountain. Truth be told, that part was rather gratifying.

"Get him to the sick bay!" Declan ordered, his voice laced with barely contained panic.

Commander Davis hoisted Donnie by the shell, while the guards ran in and each took a leg. Donnie found that he didn't need to act as much anymore, as the pressure on his bad leg sent wave after wave of agony shooting through him, and his recently injured arm dangled painfully. Despite this, he managed to keep his eyes partially open as they hurried him down the hallway and into the room that they referred to as the sick bay.

Donnie continued screaming as he was placed on a cot. He used his seemingly erratic movements to take in as much of the room as possible. It was small, and outfitted with basic medical supplies. There were no windows, but there was a single closet. A crash cart, an oxygen tank, and a portable ultrasound machine were all present. There were cupboards, undoubtedly holding more equipment, and cabinets with locks that likely held medications.

They hadn't been prepared to take him here, and the closet door was sitting slightly ajar. Inside, Donnie could see shelf after shelf of chemicals, but the door wasn't open enough for him to see what they were. Why would there be chemicals stored here, rather than a more secure location? And why only one cot for a facility this large? Donnie was becoming more and more confident that this was not the FBI. Of course, he knew nothing about the inner workings of the real FBI, but too much about this place was just...off.

In further support of this theory, the same medic from last night appeared on the scene. Shouldn't there be someone else on shift, or at least someone to assist him? The medic attached Donatello to a blood pressure cuff, which began to self-inflate.

"His head," Declan ordered. "Check his head! From the way he's acting, it could be an aneurysm."

Commander Davis tried to corral Donnie's thrashing to allow the medic to work. In a fortuitous turn of events, the exertion was causing Donnie's fever to spike and he was sweating bullets. Not only did it make him appear sicker, but it made his scaly, reptilian skin exceedingly slippery. Donnie didn't want to be pinned down just yet. He needed to see exactly what was in that closet! Sensing an opportunity, he executed a seemingly random and mindless movement, allowing himself to slip out of the Commander's grasp like a wet fish. The medic had been on the other side of the room warming up the ultrasound machine. He could only watch in horror as Davis tripped backwards, and Declan tangled himself in the blood pressure cuff wiring while attempting to halt Donnie's crash to the ground.

Donnie managed to land half in the closet. He frantically compiled a mental inventory of everything that he was able to see as he rolled around on the floor. There was plenty of potential here. Donnie screamed and writhed, but his work was done. Commander Davis and Declan pulled Donatello back to the bed, and the medic closed the closet, this time locking it with a key that was attached to a band around his wrist. Donnie didn't miss the concerned glances that passed between the three men. The medic was clearly in trouble for not having locked the closet up tight to begin with. Too bad for him.

So as not to make anyone suspicious, Donnie continued his act for as long as his energy held out. The fact that he was truly ill was working in his favor. Within ten minutes, he was utterly fatigued, and his movements began to slow as his fever spiked dangerously high. His blood pressure was skyrocketing and his heart was racing in his chest. Unsurprisingly, nothing had turned up on the hurried ultrasound that was taken of his skull, but it was decided that Donnie should remain in the sick bay for observation. This was exactly the opportunity that he had been hoping for. Everything that he needed to escape was right here. He just needed a little time to refine his plan and then put it into motion.

Despite the fact that Donnie's mind was working overtime, or perhaps even due to that fact, he soon passed out. He tried his best to stay conscious, but at this point he was completely exhausted from his illness, his faked medical emergency, and its unfortunate after-effects on his weakened body. He realized with rising terror that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from slipping away.

Donnie woke an hour later, to the sounds of a hushed conversation between the medic and Declan that was taking place in the hallway. From what he gathered, they were pleased with his progress, but had decided to keep him in the sick bay for a few hours longer, so that they could keep a close eye on him as he continued to sleep off the worst of his symptoms. Donnie feigned unconsciousness as the conversation came to an end. If they knew he was awake again, there would be trouble. Donnie dropped into a semi-meditative state, to ensure that the monitor he was hooked up to didn't register any anomalies that may give him away.

The medic closed the heavy wooden door, sauntered back to Donnie's bedside, and collapsed heavily into a chair to continue his vigil. The gradual decrease in Donatello's fever was evident on the monitor, which beeped steadily as his heart rate and blood pressure readings also returned to earth. The medic was lulled into a sense of complacency, believing his patient to be out of the woods and fast asleep.

Donnie knew that he would need to act soon. He couldn't afford to leave the sick bay. Everything that he needed was right there in the closet. Currently, it was only he and the medic in this small room. If he was quiet enough, the guards would have no reason to come in here until it was too late. The medic was really the only one standing in his way, and Donnie needed that key. Donatello kept his eyes closed and his body still, but beneath the calm surface was an undercurrent of racing thoughts and calculations.

Bit by bit, the perfect escape plan was coming together in Donatello's mind. This building had a sprinkler system, which would work to his advantage. There are very few compounds that are violently reactive when combined with water, but Donnie knew what most of them were, and how to synthesize them. When he had briefly surveyed the closet, his brain had lit up at the presence of borohydride salt. If he reacted it with any number of commonly available acids, he could produce diborane gas.

Diborane gas would self-ignite at room temperature, if enough moisture was present. All Donnie had to do was combine the salt and acid to manufacture the gas, and then activate the sprinkler system to trigger an explosion. As an added bonus, hydrogen would be produced as the diborane gas rapidly decomposed, which would make for a likely secondary reaction.

The most fitting part of this was that the chemicals that Donatello was going to use in setting off this chain of events may very well have been there due to the Pseudo-Shredder's previous attempts to drug him. Borohydride salt was often used in the production of pharmaceuticals. It gave Donnie a real sense of satisfaction to know that he was going to turn his enemy's own misdeeds against them.

But first, he had to deal with the medic. Donnie laid there, thinking and thinking about how he would do just that. He didn't want to hurt anyone. The only thing that had gotten him through these four years with his sanity intact was holding onto his core principles. One of those principles was that taking life should be avoided at all costs. Even though he was going to blow up a portion of the building to cover his escape, Donnie was planning to take measures to ensure the safety of its occupants. The gas he was going to produce would stink, giving everyone within range of the blast fair warning to evacuate. The sick bay had a fire alarm, and Donnie was going to make sure to pull it at just the right time.

While Donnie laid there thinking about how to deal with the medic, his problem went ahead and solved itself. The medic, exhausted from working a double shift, was lulled to sleep by the steady beeping of the monitors. He must have felt safe, with the armed guards in the hall, and Donnie apparently passed out cold. It took a little while for Donnie to notice this, but when he did, he realized that fate was on his side for once.

Quietly as he could, Donnie reached up and turned off the monitor. He then crept out of bed and began silently searching through drawers until he located some scissors. He also took a few disposable gloves and filled them with water, tying them off at the ends to form rudimentary water balloons. After that, he tiptoed back to the medic and ever so carefully cut the key off the band around his wrist. Donnie rearranged the bedsheets and pillows as best he could to make it appear that he was still in there, just in case the medic woke up or the guards looked in while Donnie was working in the closet. He tied the bedding end to end before he left, knowing that he would need it later.

Once he was inside the closet, Donnie located a container of sulfuric acid. Most labs had it in mass quantities, and this one was no different. Donnie poured a good amount of borohydride salt into a large bowl, and then slowly added the acid. The gas that was produced was colorless, but it smelled like the sewers, reminding Donnie of home. He continued to mix, and soon the entire room stank. Fortunately, Donnie was used to noxious odors, and his ninja training and turtle-origins meant that he could go a long time between breaths. Suspecting that the guards would soon notice the smell of the gas seeping below the closed door, Donnie set the first bowl aside and quickly began another.

After the reaction in the second bowl was well underway, Donnie decided to wake the medic. This part was critical, as he didn't want the guards rushing in on them. He decided to keep the open bottle of sulfuric acid nearby, just in case anyone tried to get too close to him.

Donatello leaned heavily on the doorframe and took a moment to gather his courage. Then, he lobbed the key to the closet directly at the medic's head, hitting him square in the temple. The medic shot up and looked around in confusion. His face scrunched as he was overpowered by the noxious aroma of the gas, but before he could yell, Donnie warningly held a finger to his lips. "Do you smell that?" he hissed. "It's a water-reactive gas. Don't move or make a sound, or I blow this place sky-high with both of us inside."

The medic inhaled sharply, but nodded his understanding.

"Now," Donnie instructed. "Get on the intercom and order everyone to evacuate. I'm giving you all a one-minute head start before I activate the sprinklers and blow the roof off this place." It was a partial bluff. There wasn't anywhere near enough gas to blow the roof off, but the medic didn't need to know that.

The medic opened his mouth as if preparing to argue or yell, so Donnie brandished the acid, swirling the bottle languidly in one hand. There was nothing else that needed to be said, and there was no way Donnie was losing this battle. The medic slowly moved toward the phone that was mounted on the wall and punched in a code. He cleared his throat, but it did nothing to still his trembling voice. While it sounded quiet in the tiny sick bay, it boomed across the facility's speakers like thunder. "Evacuate. This is not a drill. Evacuate the building."

"Thank you," Donnie said politely, before pushing off the wall and doing his best to make his voice turn menacing. "Now, if I were you, I would run."

The medic bolted out the door and down the hall, causing the guards to momentarily stumble as they charged towards Donatello. Donnie pushed the crash cart into them, knocking them over and effectively blocking the entrance to the sick bay. "Run!" Donnie yelled as they attempted to hurdle the cart. "I'm blowing this place to kingdom-come, whether you're inside or not. I'm not warning you again!"

Donnie reached to one side and pulled the fire alarm to emphasize his point, completely filling the building with noise and flashing lights. Meanwhile, the chemical reaction continued in the closet, making the room smell worse and worse. The guards exchanged a look before turning on their heels and following the medic down the hall, presumably towards the nearest exit.

People were now running down the halls in mass panic. Donatello shrank back and hid behind the sick bay door. While the gas that was seeping out of the room was invisible, he was sure that it was swirling and eddying as it spread throughout the hallway in the wake of the people racing through it. Donnie had planned for this. He wanted the gas to be as diluted and well-dispersed as possible. He didn't want a concentrated, major explosion. He wanted a milder, more widespread event that would serve as a distraction as he escaped.

As soon as the flow of people stopped, Donnie grabbed the tied up bedsheets, wrapped the water balloons inside, and carefully slung them over his shoulders. In one hand, he held an IV pole that he was using as a staff to assist him as he hobbled around. In the other hand, he took the bowl of acid and salt that was still in the process of reacting to form more gas.

Donatello quickly surveyed the building, determining that he was on the fourth floor. The front of the building overlooked a city street, and the rear backed up to another road, which ran adjacent to a river. Since everyone seemed to be flocking towards the front of the building as they evacuated, Donnie used the IV pole to shatter one of the windows in the rear. Even after years of muscle atrophy, his natural strength still exceeded that of an average human. Nevertheless it took a few tries, especially given his illness and bad shoulder. He was wearing out.

After managing to break the window, Donnie carefully positioned the gas-emitting bowl on the far side of the hall. He then anchored the IV pole underneath the window and tied the sheet to it. Once the preparations were complete, he grasped the sheet and climbed to the outside of the building. Saying a small prayer to whatever higher power may be listening, Donnie tossed one makeshift water balloon through the window he was dangling from. The lack of an ensuing explosion indicated that it didn't break. Without wasting any time, Donnie loosened the knot and tossed the next one as hard as he could. This time, he was rewarded with a loud blast, and immediately began repelling down the building. The sheets would only get him down a part of the way, then he would have to drop. He knew that this would be a perfect opportunity for someone to grab him, but that was where the secondary reactions would come into play.

The first explosion had been local, and was triggered solely by the breaking of the water balloon. Just as Donnie had hoped, that first explosion generated enough smoke and heat to activate the sprinklers. Once they began distributing water to the gas-filled hallways of the fourth floor, a second, even larger explosion tore through the building. A half-dozen windows shattered, raining glass on the streets and alleys below. Dust from damaged drywall came flying out of the newly created openings, and bricks were knocked loose from the facade and tumbled to the ground. It was then that Donatello himself dropped the rest of the way to the street, knowing that the cascade of debris would partially conceal him, and that anyone in their right mind would be running away. The three story drop was a lot to handle, but Donnie was well-trained in properly taking falls. The impact with the street jarred him badly. It hurt, but he recovered quickly, letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins work to his advantage.

Donatello knew that the reaction he had set off would also result in the production of hydrogen. He wasn't sure if the hydrogen would ignite and produce a third explosion, or if the series of events that he had set into motion was now complete. Curious as he may be, he wasn't about to waste time finding out. He needed to get as far away as possible before anyone grew brave enough to try and come find him. He was sure that his captors were regrouping at this very moment.

Cars were swerving to avoid the deteriorating building and the small pile of debris that had formed. There were not many people on the street behind the building, but anyone that might have otherwise noticed Donatello was far too distracted dodging bricks and avoiding the erratically moving traffic to pay him any heed. Donatello took advantage of the chaos, ducked low, and began limping across the street and towards the river.

It was early spring, and still a bit chilly, but the sun felt warm on his skin. The air was full of dust, pollen, and car exhaust. Sounds of the city surrounded him - honking horns, people yelling about the explosion, the far-off wail of sirens. Donnie's energy was fading, but it didn't matter. He had done it! He was free, and he was elated. He stifled a boyish giggle as he hobbled just as fast as he could towards the rushing waters that would lead him home.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. I don't think that I could afford them.**

Finally free - He was finally free! Donatello wanted to celebrate, but there was no one to celebrate with and there was so much he needed to do. It had been mere moments since his escape, but his mental to-do list was already in place. He needed to get as far from here as possible and then find a safe place to hide out. He needed to locate and destroy any tracking devices that may have been planted on him. He needed to find a way to defend himself. He needed to tend his wounds and determine why he was sick. He needed something to eat and drink. He needed to figure out the best way to contact his family. He needed to sleep for a week.

He needed a hug. He needed so badly for someone to hold him tight and rub his aching shell and tell him that he had done well to survive and escape. Most of all, he needed to know that he was still loved and wanted by someone, somewhere in this vast universe. If he was going to find a way to heal, he would need someone he trusted to watch over him and keep him safe while he recovered from these past four years of hell.

But, he pushed those thoughts aside. All of that would have to wait. It would be dangerous to try and go home right away. Thanks to the distractions provided by the multiple explosions, nobody had spotted him yet. However, with all the resources at the enemy's disposal, there was no doubt that he was going to be tracked. In fact, Donnie was completely confident that there was at least one electronic tracking device planted somewhere on his body. He'd never be able to forgive himself if his sloppiness led the enemy to his loved ones.

Donnie did the first thing that he could think of that would both conceal him, and quickly throw someone off his trail. He waded into the river and began swimming. In addition to the benefit of not leaving two-toed footprints behind, this would make it far more difficult for anyone to follow his scent. The water would also compromise the effectiveness of any electronic tracking device that may have been planted on him. Most electronics didn't respond well to being submersed in liquid. While the devices may not be destroyed, they would certainly have a harder time transmitting.

Donatello dove underwater and began to paddle as best he could with the current. He maneuvered himself into the middle part of the river, hoping he would be harder to spot if he weren't too close to shore. The spring water was cool, but it nevertheless felt wonderful, soothing his strained muscles and numbing his injuries. As his body temperature dropped, some of the symptoms of his fever were temporarily eased. Being partially cold-blooded left him susceptible to rapid swings in body temperature, so he'd have to be careful not to stay in the water too long, or he was likely to become hypothermic. Nevertheless, swimming and periodically floating when he required rest was far easier on his disabled body than walking would have been.

While Donatello knew that urban rivers aren't exactly known for their cleanliness, he couldn't help but feel that he was washing away years of filth. During his captivity, he had been hosed off on a regular basis. He'd even cleaned up with soap and water while staying with the "FBI." But, until now he hadn't felt entirely clean. It was more of a mindset than anything else.

Donnie relished the feel of the water flowing around him. Before his capture, he'd been too busy to indulge his turtle instincts, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He had always loved the water, and he had to bite down the urge to splash around in celebration like a little kid taking a bath. Despite the imminent risk of being recaptured, this was the first hint of anything approaching happiness and relaxation Donnie had felt in years.

Donatello stayed in the river for over an hour, careful to remain as submerged as possible to avoid being spotted. Occasionally, a boat whizzed by, or someone yelled from the shore. Each time this happened, he fought the urge to panic, and simply dove deeper. He had no way of knowing if his pursuers were closing in on him, or if what he was experiencing was completely unrelated.

In between these encounters, Donnie carefully took in his surroundings and confirmed that he was, indeed, still in New York City, or in the very least he was in the greater New York City area. He'd been here the whole damn time. Although he wasn't sure where exactly he was, there was no mistaking his beloved hometown. He did his best to look for landmarks, but it was difficult, since he spent so much time hiding underwater.

Once he felt that he had put enough distance between himself and his enemies, Donatello began looking for places where he could haul himself up onto the bank. He was getting pretty cold, and there had been one too many near misses with boats. Perhaps more worrisome, the buildings that ran along the river were growing smaller and further apart. He must have been approaching the outskirts of the city, or at least a less dense area. As much as he wanted to leave his former prison in the dust, he also didn't want to get too far away from his ultimate destination, which was the lair. It was best to stay in the city if possible.

This less populous area provided a few spots where he could come ashore unnoticed. He had to be picky about finding the right one, though. Once he was out of the water, his pursuers would be able to track him more easily, and he wouldn't be able to move as quickly. Finally, Donnie found just what he was looking for.

There was a property abutting the river that was clearly a scrap yard. It wasn't one that Donnie recognized, but it still lent an air of friendly familiarity. He knew that he could find plenty of places to hide there. A fence separated the scrap yard from the river, but Donnie could see several towering piles. He was sure that those piles would contain scores of useful items that he could scavenge and build with. Not only that, but he should be able to set up a defense and retreat back to the safety of the river if needed.

Donatello army crawled onto the reedy bank, and then dragged himself further ashore. Once he reached the fence line, he found a metal pipe that was a perfect length to act as a walking stick. It was also a close enough facsimile to his old bo staff that he would be able to defend himself with it. He used the pipe to pry up the scrap yard fence far enough that he could wriggle below it.

As he had observed from the river, there were several large piles in the rear of the scrap yard that backed up to the fence. The piles were tall enough that he could hide behind them for a while. The rear part of the yard was practically vacant, and seemed to be used for storage. Most of the activity was happening in the front of the yard, near the street entrance. If he remained quiet, and stuck to the narrow path between the fence and the piles, he should be able to hide here safely until nightfall.

Donnie was confident that there were some technologically advanced tracking devices on him that wouldn't have been completely shorted out in the river. Disabling them had to be a top priority. With all the experiments and time spent unconscious while in the hands of the Pseudo-Shredder, Donnie had no way of knowing where on his body the tracking devices might be, so he couldn't simply cut them out. It was going to take time to find and destroy anything that might be hiding beneath his skin. The thought gave him the creeps.

For now, he needed rest. The adrenaline in his system was wearing off, and he was beginning to feel the symptoms of his illness again. To rest at all, he needed to feel reasonably safe. Donnie's main priority had to be jamming those signals as efficiently as possible, before he was located and recaptured. The devices could be permanently destroyed later, when he had more time to devote to the job.

Donnie dug through nearby junk piles until he found an old cellular phone and a transistor radio. He also found a half-used roll of moldy duct tape. He could have cried with joy at the priceless discovery. Duct tape! It was like finding gold. Donnie always had a million uses for duct tape.

Over the next couple of hours, he used the components of the phone and radio to build a rudimentary signal jammer. To power it, he used a dead car battery, some various drained fluids, and other bits and pieces of found items to create a small electrochemical cell. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now. Donnie crossed his fingers and connected the last wire, which should have activated the jammer. He had no tangible way of knowing if it was working. "I'm trusting you, buddy," he told the inanimate object. "Don't let me down."

Working on the project made Donnie feel like his old self. Really, this whole past day had made Donnie feel like his old self - engineering the explosion, outwitting his enemies, building a piece of equipment from scratch, even the presence of his bo staff-like walking stick. If it weren't for his poor physical condition, he could almost convince himself that the past four years hadn't happened. He half expected to hear Raphael honking the horn of the hauler, impatient and wanting to get back to the lair. Donnie didn't know whether that thought should make him laugh or cry… _Raphael_.

Dusk was now falling over the City, and the scrap yard had closed for the evening. Donnie knew that he should grab his signal jammer and keep moving, but he simply didn't have the energy to make it more than a few hundred feet. Utterly exhausted, he found an old passenger van that hadn't been fully disassembled. Donnie climbed in and collapsed into one of the rear seats. It was a tight and uncomfortable squeeze. The best fit was for him to lay on his side, but his busted leg hung awkwardly over the edge. Still, he was used to far worse, and he was so tired that comfort wasn't really a necessity. All he needed was to be hidden from sight and just shy of complete agony. This certainly fit the bill.

Donatello gazed up at the night sky, his eyes watery and wide. Growing up, he had often pondered the seemingly-infinite universe. From earth, it appeared so peaceful and quiet, but in reality, there was so much going on. Stars were being born and dying. Comets and asteroids were careening about. Black holes were crushing entire worlds into quantum singularities. He now knew firsthand that there were people on other planets, looking out at other skies that were very different and yet exactly the same. It had always been awe-inspiring, but never more than now, after being trapped below ground for so long.

There were so many constellations and stars that he recognized - Ursa Major, Antlia, Leo and Leo Minor. The sight of the lion in the sky sent a bittersweet twinge through him. _Oh, Leo. I hope that you're okay and that I get to see you soon._

Donnie shifted a bit and realized that he could now see the moon from where he laid. It felt like being reunited with an old friend. He gazed up at it in admiration until his eyes were too heavy to remain open. Even though he was in a junkyard, the air seemed so fresh and sweet. There was still a long way to go before he was home, and it would be even longer still until he felt like his old self again. Still, today had been a huge victory, and Donnie was full of nervous anticipation as he considered his reclaimed future. Eventually, the exhaustion won the battle with his rapidly spinning brain and Donatello drifted into a shallow dreamless sleep.

 **Don't mind the space-iness at the end. I spent most of last night watching NOVA, and got myself all worked up. Thanks for reading.**


	24. Chapter 24

When Donatello awoke, he could tell from the position of the moon and the stars that he had slept for longer than he had intended to. That wasn't good! Even if his signal jammer was working, anyone electronically tracking him would likely know that this was the last spot that he had been recorded at before falling off the radar. Someone could be closing in on him this very minute! He needed to put some serious distance between himself and this place before he was recaptured.

Ever so slowly, Donnie pulled himself up, attempting to ignore his body's many loud complaints. His muscles protested even the gentle movement. His back ached from the awkward sleeping position, and his leg throbbed from poor blood flow. His head pounded, and his vision blurred. He brought his hand to his forehead and groaned before remembering that he needed to be silent. Despite the pain, a smile touched his lips. He had made it this far! He was still free!

Of course, he wouldn't be free for long if anyone discovered him here. He'd been lucky that no one had spotted him along the fence line yesterday, but now needed to find a better hiding place before daybreak. Naturally, his first thought was the sewer, and it didn't take long to find a manhole. Donatello pried it up and peered in to find a wide brick passage. It made sense that the drain would be wide here, being so close to the river. Unfortunately, that meant that it would also be prone to rapid flooding. The passage was dry for now, so Donnie studied the water lines. They were three to four feet high. He looked back over his shoulder at the sky. There were no signs of imminent rain.

Making up his mind, Donnie began dropping items that might be of use down the manhole. He had three main goals for today - creating a brace for his leg, locating a secure place to hide out for a while, and finding and permanently destroying any trackers. The signal jammer was a quick fix, but he couldn't count on it forever. Anything potentially helpful went down the manhole. Finally, Donnie grabbed his signal jammer and carefully lowered himself and the device down into the subsurface. Once he gained his footing, he leaned heavily on the wall and reached up with his metal pipe to close the manhole cover.

Donnie was plunged into darkness. Fortunately, he had prepared for that, having found a discarded flashlight and some batteries with a bit of life left in them. He decided to work on the leg brace first. Tucking the flashlight beneath his chin, he took a good look at himself. He sighed sadly as he ran his hand up and down the length of his mangled limb, feeling the hardened lumps and bumps that never should've been there. It was a wonder that he had been able to carry any weight on it at all. Donatello was quite confident that there would be no fixing the damage.

Thankfully, he had full use of his hip. It was somewhat protected by his shell, and therefore wasn't an easy target. His ankle was also in decent shape, since it had garnered some protection from the manacle. It was his knee that was the real problem. It had taken the brunt of the abuse, and years of continuous untreated injuries had left it essentially locked in place. He could only bend it back a few inches, maybe a 160-degree angle at most.

After some experimentation, Donatello realized that makeshift crutches would never work. He couldn't elevate his leg off the ground enough, and just ended up dragging it. Furthermore, his previously dislocated shoulder hadn't sufficiently recovered to support its share of the weight. He decided that the best solution would be to keep the leg in a straight splint and bear weight on it with the help of a staff or cane.

While there were plenty of metal pipes at his disposal, they would be too heavy to incorporate into a brace. Instead, Donnie ran a section of PVC pipe between his hip and his ankle and wrapped the entire length with his treasured duct tape. He'd used duct tape to patch together countless inventions through the years, so it seemed fitting to be using it to patch himself together now. In the end, Donnie was pleased with the result, feeling stronger and more mobile than he had since his capture.

Sighing in contentment, Donatello leaned back on the sewer wall, ready to relax after a job well done. The break was timed perfectly, as he suddenly became aware of a distant conversation drifting down from the scrap yard above. It was far too early to be anyone starting work for the day. The perimeter was surrounded by a locked fence, so that meant the voices could only belong to intruders. Donnie shot to attention, all his long-dormant ninja senses on high alert.

"This is where we lost the primary signal," a deep voice declared, making Donnie's eyes go wide with fear. He was being hunted.

Someone with a lilting, far more feminine voice replied. "What about the secondary signal?"

"It disappeared almost immediately, and we haven't gotten it back since. That freak must have jumped into the river and stayed there long enough to short out the secondary tracker."

Damn it. Donnie mentally kicked himself for indulging in those few hours of sleep. He should've gotten out of here as soon as he finished the signal jammer. If he hadn't been so exhausted and overwhelmed, he would've done just that. But it was no use spending time mentally berating himself, when he had to run or hide. At least now he knew his jammer was working, and that he had apparently destroyed one of the devices.

The muffled voices seemed to be getting closer. "I hear it has an affinity for sewers," the deep voice said, making Donnie's heart pound even harder.

"That's truly disgusting," the female replied. "But surely it knows that we know that, right? I thought we wanted it for its smarts. It wouldn't really be so stupid as to hide down there, would it?"

Apparently not, Donnie thought to himself as full-fledged panic set in.

"Well we sure didn't want it for its looks," the male voice replied. They both had a good laugh at that. Despite the dire situation, Donnie couldn't help but shake his head and roll his eyes. Even after engineering what he felt was a pretty impressive escape, he was still the butt of their jokes. What does a turtle have to do to get some respect in this world?

"Well, we might as well check down there first," the deep voice recommended. "There's less ground to cover."

"The sewers are a maze, stupid. We're better off checking the junk yard first," the feminine voice argued.

"What, are you afraid to go down there?" the male voice teased. "Don't want to get dirty?"

 _Please let that be the case,_ Donnie mentally begged. He knew it wouldn't be, though. He'd had a few strokes of luck in managing to escape and remain free for this long. He couldn't expect that luck to hold out forever. Turtle luck never did.

He would just have to make his own luck, then. Donnie quickly ran through the choices. He could go back to the river, but that would short out the signal jammer, which eliminated that option. He could stay in the sewer, and hope that they wouldn't find him, or he could go back to the surface, where he wouldn't be so easily cornered.

Donnie decided to head back to the surface, but obviously he couldn't pop up right here. He was practically beneath their feet. He could still hear them debating about where to search first, almost directly over his head. Without further hesitation, Donnie grabbed the signal jammer, his staff, and his precious roll of duct tape, and began limping away. He decided to head upriver, in the hopes that they would assume he wasn't backtracking.

Even with his new brace, Donatello couldn't move quickly, and he knew he was incapable of going very far. After fifteen minutes of hobbling, he reached a spot that seemed dark and quiet enough to regroup. He slid down the wall, grateful to be off his feet. Donnie listened for any signs of his pursuers. His own gasping breath and the pounding of his heart was all that he could hear. There was no indication that he had been followed.

Donnie rested for a few minutes, but decided that remaining in the sewer for too long would be unwise. Finding the nearest manhole, he cautiously peaked above ground. Donnie saw that he was now in a commercial area. Since the sun was still a few hours from rising, all the stores were currently closed. From what he could see, there was a florist, a secondhand clothing store, and a pizza shop. Donnie's stomach growled as soon as he spotted the cartoon pizza logo painted on one of the windows. He frowned and placed a hand over his belly to quiet it down. The last thing he needed was for his enemies to find him because they overheard his stomach protesting its emptiness. He was so hungry! It had been almost a full day since he had eaten, and even that was only a few bites.

His mind made up, Donnie climbed out of the sewer and crept into the alley. His eyes found the dumpster that he was seeking. He had known that there must be at least one nearby. The irony wasn't lost on him that it was hiding out on a dumpster that had originally gotten him into this mess, but this one seemed safe enough. His enemies couldn't have rigged every dumpster in the city, after all. Still, Donnie exercised extreme caution, approaching it as if it were a ticking time bomb.

This dumpster showed no signs of tampering. It was only halfway full, which was perfect. There was enough stuff to bury himself, but enough room that he was confident it wouldn't be emptied out with him still inside. Donatello climbed in head first, carefully set the signal jammer in the corner, then covered himself in garbage. It was a surprisingly good mix of items. There was plenty of regular trash, but the damaged clothing added some softness, the discarded flowers disguised the smell, and there was more than enough half-eaten Italian food to satisfy a sick and starving turtle.

After eating as much as his stomach would tolerate, Donnie made sure that he was completely buried before attempting to get some rest. Daybreak was coming, and it would be best to stay hidden during the day and active at night.

Unfortunately, sleep did not come so easily this time around. Donatello's body was trembling with illness, fear and exhaustion, but his mind was racing a mile a minute and refusing to allow him rest. He had been free for almost an entire day now, and elation was giving way to anxiety. Not only was he being pursued, but he had no idea if he had a home to go back to, or a family waiting for him. He kept thinking about his father and brothers, and trying to ignore the all-too-vivid imagery that had haunted him for years now.

Donnie had been doing well to push aside those terrible ideas thus far, but now that he was pinned down in the dumpster with nothing to work on, it was getting more difficult to block them out. It didn't help matters that Declan had implied that there was a body matching Raphael's description, and that Donnie had always had a vivid imagination. There were times that he fell into a feverish sleep, only to awaken with a gasp soon afterwards, as his mind rejected its current reality. It seemed that whenever Donnie closed his eyes he was back in his cell, trapped in his drug-fueled nightmares, or worse yet, back in the alternate future that Drako had sent him to.

 **As always, thank you for reading, and thank you for all of your feedback.**


	25. Chapter 25

The daylight hours passed largely without incident. The dumpster had been opened several times, which was extremely taxing on Donatello's already frayed nerves. Each time it turned out to be someone depositing a fresh bag of garbage, not a villain out to apprehend him. Fortunately, no one took notice of the pale, shaking, saucer-eyed turtle dressed in discarded second hand clothes and buried under a mound of trash. For the most part, Donnie was left alone, with only his nightmares and oppressive thoughts as company.

After the last of the dinner rush left the pizza shop, Donnie slipped out of the dumpster, clutching his walking stick in one hand, and a reusable shopping bag containing his precious signal jammer and duct tape in the other. He knew from what he had overheard in the scrapyard last night that the jammer was working, but even so, it would only be a short-term fix. It had been confirmed that there was another tracking device somewhere in or on his body, and Donnie suspected that he knew where.

After his shell had been shattered, he was in and out of consciousness for weeks. His captors could have done anything to him during that time, and he would never have noticed. His shell was the perfect spot for them to have planted a tracker, too. As it healed, it would've grown right over or around a foreign object. It would also be very difficult for him to locate and remove it on his own, given that his arms simply didn't bend that way.

Try though he may, Donnie couldn't think of an effective way to precisely identify the exact location of the device. A metal detector was simple to build, but it would miss anything nonmetal. He'd never be able to assemble an X-ray or ultrasound machine in a reasonable amount of time. He could construct a signal detector, but he didn't think that he could achieve the accuracy needed to find something so small. He also feared the possibility that there was still more than one device on him. He obviously wasn't about to cut his entire shell off. All this lead him to the conclusion that a broader approach was needed.

While a good old-fashioned electric shock would likely do the trick, there was the small matter of keeping his heart beating to worry about. Fortunately, electromagnets were just about the worst thing for electronics, without the nasty, potentially fatal side effects. Building a handheld electromagnet was child's play, as far as Donnie was concerned. It was just a matter of finding the proper components. He knew that he could grab them at the scrap yard but going back there was too risky. He was also afraid to take to the sewers again, after yesterday's incident.

While waiting to leave his comfortable dumpster, Donnie had piled on as many clothes as he could. At first glance, he looked like an everyday homeless person, particularly because it was dark out once more. His heavy limp accentuated this effect. It was the type of thing that most humans would prefer to turn their eyes away from. The disguise allowed Donnie to wander the streets and to search through alleys and dumpsters without anyone paying him any heed.

Over the course of the night, he managed to find all the components he would need to put together an electromagnetic wand. He'd found the parts here and there, as a blueprint evolved in his mind. His major score came from a dumpster located near a hardware store that was going out of business. There was so much good stuff! If only he had his trusty brown duffel. Tempting though it was, he wasn't about to lug a bunch of extra stuff across the city when he could hardly even bear his own weight.

As daybreak approached, Donnie knelt in an alley and assembled the electromagnet. Once it was ready, he tested it out, watching in wonder as a stray piece of metal rose from the street and attached itself to the wand. Donnie cleared it off, and then waved the wand over his body, head to toe. He paid special attention to his shell. Bending backwards was difficult, and there was no guarantee that any of this would work. But, he had done the very best that he could.

Once he was finished, Donnie looked down at his trusty signal jammer. He knew that he couldn't carry it around forever. In fact, he knew that he would have to turn it off, if he were to be confident that the trackers were destroyed. He had to be completely positive that they were dead before he tried to go home. The only real way to know for sure was to turn the jammer off and then wait around to see if anybody found him. It was risky, but there was no way in hell that he was leading his enemies to his family, if he even had any family left.

Donnie groaned and rubbed between his eyes. He had decided to wait two weeks after turning off the jammer before heading home. It was going to be hard to wait, but Donnie was stubborn about this sort of thing. The Pseudo-Shredder wouldn't leave him free for long, if he could help it. If no one came for him after two weeks, it would be safe to assume that he had managed to debug himself. It should also give him time enough to recover from his illness. He knew it was far-fetched, but a part of him couldn't help but worry that he was carrying some weird disease that would set off a pandemic. He'd been avoiding humans as much as possible, but he needed to avoid his family as well. So, he had set the admittedly somewhat arbitrary two-week wait period. After that, if he was still confident that he was not contagious and not being followed, he could finally, finally go home.

But first, he had to be brave enough to turn off the signal jammer. According to his self-imposed rules, the two-week wait period didn't begin until he did. He was too scared to do it at the moment, though. It seemed like everything had been too easy. He'd built the electromagnetic wand in one night, after all. Nothing ever came that easy, especially lately. So, how could this?

With a resigned growl, Donnie heaved the makeshift signal jammer up. The top of the sun was now peeking out from between two buildings and casting long shadows into the alley. Donatello had to get out of here before he was spotted and find a new hiding place for the day. He simply wasn't mentally prepared to turn off the jammer, so he decided to allow himself to indulge in its comforting presence for a little while longer. Deciding against a dumpster, Donnie impulsively took refuge in the sewers.

The tunnel that he found himself in was a large, major artery that was lit with emergency lighting. Deeming the odds of running into a maintenance worker too high, Donnie limped towards one of the shadowy side tunnels. His whole body shook with effort, and he finally collapsed once he was a few hundred yards in. He was pushing himself too hard and he knew it. Donnie dragged himself into a corner, arranged his meager possessions, and fell asleep.

His troubled mind allowed him a few hours rest before a nightmare shocked him awake. He shook his head to clear the unpleasant image that had seared itself into his brain - a one-armed Michelangelo lying dead on the ground. Donnie's breath came in quick, rattled gasps, which he forced himself to control. He pulled his clothing tighter around his aching body, then buried his face in his hands, telling himself that it was okay. He was okay. They were okay.

In time, Donatello was ready to stretch out his trembling limbs a little, figuring he would gradually work his way to standing up. He systematically tested each muscle. When the shakiness failed to dissipate, he realized it may well be a side effect of hunger and anxiety. He couldn't do much about the hunger before sundown, but he could attempt to tackle the anxiety.

Groaning as he pulled himself into a sitting position, Donnie leaned back against the nearby wall and took some deep, centering breaths. He closed his eyes, but reopened them whenever an unpleasant, haunting vision would flash before them. Once the trembling had died down, he found himself staring at the signal jammer in contemplation. He considered what would need to change for him to be comfortable turning it off.

The truth was, he just didn't trust the electromagnetic wand. While it should have worked, there was just no way of knowing for sure without building a signal detector. He couldn't go above ground to search for parts now, as he knew that it was likely still daylight. Not only that, but the parts he would need may be difficult to find.

Donnie sat with his bad arm resting on his good leg, and his bad leg stretched out before him while he stared into the main tunnel. Physically and mentally, he was a mess. At least his fever seemed to be letting up, which was a blessing. The problem was, now that he had been free for a while, his excitement was beginning to give way to crippling anxiety. He didn't know what he would do if he was caught again. He didn't know what he needed to do to feel confident that he wasn't being tracked. The worries were clouding his mind, and he was helpless down here in the sewers without any tools, or any means of a quick escape.

As he stared into the main tunnel, an idea came to him. It was a bad idea, and he knew it. But, at the moment he didn't care. Donnie took off his ratty clothing and used it to cover up the signal jammer. He then grabbed his walking stick and hobbled over to the row of tunnel lights. They were all connected to one electrical line. Donatello had shocked himself plenty of times over the course of his lifetime. Engineering, working in the lab and in the garage, his curious nature - all these things tended to result in certain misadventures.

Donnie had a pretty good idea of what the voltage of the power line supplying the lights would be. It was strong enough to short out anything electrical, but not strong enough to stop his heart...probably. If he weren't so darn anxious, he would have waited until nightfall and looked for a better solution. Right now, he was in a perfect mood to take a stupid chance.

Casting his eyes around the sewer, Donnie found a piece of wood with a few nails sticking out of it. The wood wouldn't conduct electricity, which was perfect. Donnie grasped the plank and used the sharpest nail to cut most of the way through the wire that fed the line of lights. When the nail contacted the newly-developed raw spot, it threw sparks and the lights flickered.

Donnie knew that if he simply reached out and touched the unprotected wire, all his muscles would be paralyzed by the resulting electric current. He would be unable to move away and would be frozen in place while he was cooked to death. He had to make sure that his feet weren't touching the ground when he made contact. Gravity was going to finish this job for him, ensuring that he didn't complete the circuit with his body for longer than a millisecond. Donnie turned his back to the sparking wire. He closed his eyes and sighed, gathering his courage. He then leaped backwards with as much force as he could, using his walking stick to gain some height.

Electricity instantly exploded across his back. He had aimed for the spot where his shell was the most damaged, which he assumed to be the most likely location of the tracking device. It was a direct hit. Donnie felt as though his entire shell had been set on fire and disintegrated. Lightening seemed to travel up and down the partially-healed cracks, throughout his body, and out his feet. He was only aware of this phenomenon for a moment, and then his whole world went as dark as the now pitch-black tunnel.

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 **Thanks for reading, and thanks to those of you who have favorited, followed and reviewed.**


	26. Chapter 26

**I do not own TMNT.**

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Donatello awoke with a gasp. He drew in a huge lungful of air and coughed it out again. It felt like his whole body had burned from the inside-out. He rolled onto his back, and bit his lip to stifle a scream, almost passing out again right then and there. His shell was absolutely killing him. It felt like someone had poured acid down it. He pulled his arms to his plastron and realized that they weren't chained. Not only that, but his cell was never this dark. They always kept it bright, even in the dead of night. He didn't know what was going on. He couldn't see or hear anything at all. Terror coursed through him, as he realized that whatever drug had been tested on him must have robbed him of his senses.

Donnie attempted to calm himself. He didn't want to make a scene in front of the guards that he knew must be watching. Surely all his senses couldn't be gone! He tested them one by one. Smell - much to his relief, he could still smell. It smelled like a sewer with a hint of burned hair. And, he could still feel the pain in his body and the moist, gritty floor below him. Why was the floor gritty? It was cement and hosed down daily. And, maybe there was a light after all, just a small sparking one. And, perhaps it wasn't really all that quiet. Now that he had had a moment to gather himself, he was aware of a far-off dripping noise. None of this made sense. Of course, he was used to things not making sense. Years of experimental drug testing had that effect on a person (or turtle in this case).

Suddenly, it all came back to him in one fell swoop - the raid, the escape, the last few days on the run. That's right! He had gone and electrocuted himself. Well, that had been a monumentally stupid move! Donnie now realized that he was crumpled in a graceless heap beneath the sparking wire. He had no idea how much time had passed. There was still a singed smell to the air, so hopefully it wasn't long. He was lucky that no one had found him here. Heck, he was lucky he hadn't killed himself. At some point, the sewer workers would likely come to repair the lights. It would be best to move out now.

Realizing that he wasn't going to be able to walk quite yet, Donnie stubbornly dragged himself to where he had concealed his few possessions. Without giving himself time to overthink things, he reached out a trembling arm and turned off his trusty signal jammer. He gave it a little salute before letting his head and arm crash to the ground with a moan. His whole body hurt. That was nothing unusual, but it hurt far more than it had in a while now. This was sheer agony. There were burns on his feet and he was sure there were some internal burns as well. He was plagued by muscle spasms. His shell was killing him. He had a splitting headache. His leg hurt, as always. His shoulder was still in the socket, but it felt like he had been lying awkwardly on it. The jolt seemed to have cleared his sinuses though. At least that was a silver lining.

Donnie felt like he should peak his head above ground to check the time, but there was no way he was capable. Instead, he let himself recover for a few hours, forcing himself to remain conscious and listen for signs of unwanted visitors as he lay quivering on the ground. Fortunately, he was safe, and after a while he was feeling well enough to get dressed and venture away. It was important to him that he stay on the surface for the next two weeks. He was confident that he had destroyed the tracking devices, but any good scientist is never truly 100% certain about anything. If he was being followed, he needed to know before he tried to go home. The sewers would interfere with any remaining tracking signals, so he was going to need to avoid them whenever possible.

It was dark when Donnie emerged, which was great because he was still feeling weak and disoriented. The first thing he did was rummage for something to eat and drink, then he attempted to explore the block in the hopes of getting his bearings. Walking on burned feet was challenging, but he had wrapped them as best he could for now. The burns were small, just two little exits wounds from where the burst of electricity had blasted its way out of his body and into the ground. They hurt like the dickens, but they'd quickly get better if he kept them clean and took frequent breaks.

The best thing about being on the surface was that Donnie was able to take in the sights and look for landmarks. By the end of the first day, he had figured out exactly where he was - on Long Island, close to eastern Queens. It took another day to mentally map out the journey home. As the crow flies, he was only about twenty miles from the lair. That meant that if he meandered on the city streets, he could be home by his target date if he covered a mile and a half per day. To the old Donnie, twenty miles in two weeks would've been a cakewalk. Heck, twenty miles in a day wouldn't have been a challenge when he was in his prime, but given his current state, the distance was daunting.

He tried to rest during the daylight hours - sometimes in dumpsters, sometimes in alleys, sometimes cleverly hidden away somewhere else, but always above ground. He didn't sleep nearly as much or as deeply as he should, his bodily aches and pains and his anxiety attacks constantly hampering him. At night, he dragged his sorry shell out of whatever hiding place he had found and scrounged for meals, gradually working his way towards home. Every step was a struggle. His illness was slowly getting better, which was a huge relief, but his poor physical condition made any movement difficult.

It was a strange couple of weeks. He felt like he was trapped in between dreams and reality, but he wasn't sure which future would eventually rise up to meet him. While it was clear that the world had continued turning while he was away, that didn't mean that his family was safe and intact. For all he knew, they'd been dead for years now. He was tempted to make a detour and check in on his old friends. April, Casey, or even the Professor would undoubtedly be able to tell him how his loved ones were doing. That didn't seem fair, though. Family was family, and if they were alive, they deserved to know first that Donnie was free. At this point, he suspected that he had long ago been given up for dead. He wasn't mad. He just accepted it.

The idea of mentally reaching out was also tempting. Donnie had repeatedly tried to do that in the past, but he had never been able to avoid the explosion of pain in his head, and the resulting period of unconsciousness. He was too scared to try again. He couldn't afford to be so helpless when he was out in the open like this. Moreso, he was terrified of finding nothing once more. He didn't know how he could go on if he was met with emptiness. It was one thing to be worried, but he wasn't sure that he could handle having his worst fears confirmed.

Standing on a precipice was a good way to describe things. It was simply impossible to tell what loomed ahead. It could be something approaching his old life - movie nights, pizza, tea with Splinter and sunny summer days on the farm. It could be a nightmare - confirmation of his worst fears, a lifetime of desolation, loneliness, and unending mourning.

If it was the latter, what would he do? He'd had plenty of time to consider the possibilities. He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit to having occasionally contemplated just ending things. Maybe if he had the means while imprisoned, and if he had really believed his family to be dead, he would have just done it. But now that he was free, all he could do was move forward. Whatever may come, he would face it head on. He'd been through too much to give up on himself now. He didn't want to be alone. He couldn't imagine a future without his clan, but he knew without a doubt that they would want him to live on and try to be happy.

Even if they were gone, he could still invent. He could still study. He could make a new home, perhaps in the woods somewhere, or even on some other planet. Maybe one of his old friends would take him in. He could meet new people online and find something of a community. He could wholly devote himself to his studies and inventions. The things he could build and discover would make the world a better place. His broken heart may never mend, but he would honor his family and most treasured memories. He would have a purpose.

At least that's what he told himself. In actuality, he feared that a broken heart would destroy him. He was just so fragile right now. He was dangling by a thread.

As he got closer and closer to the heart of the city, where the turtles had built their lair, Donnie began spending some brief periods of time below ground again. By that time, it had been over a week and a half since he turned off his signal jammer, and there had been no signs of anyone following him. He just couldn't resist the siren call of the tunnels that he had been raised in.

He made it a point to visit a few of the older lairs. Although he denied it even to himself, he was hoping to find signs of his father or brothers. Sadly, it was clear that no one had set foot in them in years. While he was disappointed, it was still nice to reminisce about good times that they had spent together.

One afternoon, Donnie even took a picnic lunch of expired canned goods and bruised fruit and ate it in the remains of his old subway car lab. It was mind boggling. His life had once revolved around this place, but now it had been so long since he had been here. Even before his kidnapping, no one had ever visited. Since their home here had been discovered and raided, they considered it too risky. Once the necessary items were removed, they had never looked back.

Sitting in the old, converted subway car made him feel like he was surrounded by ghosts. He'd expected to be reminded of fond memories, but instead it just felt eerie, empty, and way too silent. What if the next lair was like this - just another lifeless, abandoned home, left to crumble? Once Donnie was done eating, he immediately scurried back out.

Now that the two weeks were almost up, he would have welcomed a chance encounter with his brothers, or with anyone, really. Keeping himself away from the last known lair for those final few days was the hardest thing that he'd ever had to do. Donatello had never handled the unknown well. When presented with a mystery, he wanted it solved. When faced with a question, he'd do whatever it took to find the answer. This was the most important question that he had ever struggled with. Was his family okay? He needed to know that they were. Most of all, he needed their arms around him.

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 **The next Chapter is my favorite one in this whole story, and the very first part that I wrote. The idea of posting it is a little bittersweet, although I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe because once it's up, it's officially finished, and I can't go back and tweak it anymore? Maybe just because it's close to my heart? Who knows? Anyway, thanks for reading, and thanks to those of you who have followed, favorited or reviewed!**


	27. Chapter 27

Donatello limped through the maze of sewer tunnels, half dragging himself with his improvised staff. He'd hardly managed to sleep or eat in the past two weeks, plagued by nightmares and paralyzing anxiety that seemed to grow worse with proximity to his destination. He'd given up on rest entirely after leaving the old lair, and made a final, desperate shot towards home. It was only a couple of miles but it may as well have been a hundred. Over the past two weeks, the symptoms of his illness had dissipated, but the lack of rest and nourishment had rendered his crippled body barely functional.

Every step was agony. Every part of him screamed for rest, but he wouldn't give in. He stumbled over and over again, tearing up his hands, elbows, and knee and leaving him peppered with bruises. Several times, he passed out upon impact with the ground, too weak to endure further torment. Each time it happened he struggled to his feet immediately after waking. He was unable to spare a few moments more. Enough of his life had been wasted. By his reckoning, he hadn't slept in two days, unless you wanted to count his unconscious spells as sleep. He told himself that he could rest when he got home.

The tunnels became more familiar as he came closer to the lair. He looked for signs of recent usage but found none. He convinced himself that he couldn't let that deter him. His brothers knew enough to cover their tracks, after having their homes invaded and destroyed so many times before. He could only assume that his own disappearance had served to increase their paranoia.

He was in the final approach now, and Donatello found himself face to face with one of his old perimeter monitors. The lens was covered in dust and grime, clearly not maintained. His stomach dropped. But still, none of his family was as technologically savvy as he was. They may not have bothered to keep his systems online. Hours later, he came across the next monitor. Its lens was cracked, indicating that it had either been found or destroyed. Not good. A chill ran down Donnie's spine as he fell to one knee with a sob.

Nothing. It could mean nothing. He had to go on. What other choice did he have? He ran a hand over his face, regaining his composure. Every muscle protested as he pulled himself back to his feet. His emaciated body felt like it weighed two tons. He could hardly muster the strength to lift his head. He had to get home. He had to know one way or the other if his family was waiting for him there.

It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time he reached the door. Donatello straightened his damaged back as much as he could and examined the secret entrance warily. He had half expected someone to greet him. He had hoped that his family would somehow sense his presence. He stood by the door for a while, but no sound came from inside. There were no signs of recent usage. No footprints were in the grime, and no handprints were identifiable along the wall. He reached a shaky arm up and located the hidden pipe that should unlock the door. It was covered in dust and cobwebs. He pulled it down, keenly aware of how rusty the gears sounded. Nothing happened. He pulled it again, and it snapped off in his hand, causing him fall over and cry out in alarm. He dragged his utterly worn out body back to the door, pulled himself up, and tried knocking. Dust flew into the air, but aside from that, nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

What was he supposed to do? What now? This couldn't be. He was too tired to keep moving. He didn't even have the energy to hide himself. He'd already demanded far too much of his tortured and crippled body.

All those months imprisoned, Donnie had never broken. Regardless of what had been thrown at him, he had managed to stay whole - until now. He felt the weight of the past four years crashing down on him, sending fissures through his mind and body, rupturing his soul itself. He knew in his heart that couldn't survive it. With the last of his energy, he stumbled backwards and then flung himself at the door, letting out an inhuman, sobbing scream of pure anguish. It had all been for nothing. If he wasn't so completely exhausted, he would have recognized how irrational he was being. But in that moment, he wholeheartedly believed that he had been holding out for a family that he would never see again. He had suffered and endured for no reason at all. He had no doubt was going to die right here, right now, at the hopelessly sealed gateway to his former home.

Through the haze of defeat and all-consuming misery, Donatello became distantly aware of a grinding sound emanating from the wall. He lurched backwards as a crack appeared and light blinded him. A flash of green and blue, and the glimmer of steel briefly filled his vision before his sight left him entirely. His eyes squeezed shut against his will, and he heard the clattering of metal hitting the ground at his feet.

"Donnie? DON! Donatello!"

Donatello couldn't respond. Running on instinct alone, he staggered towards the direction of the sound and then collapsed. Strong arms caught him and held him tight. "Leo!" He returned the embrace with every bit of strength he had left and buried his face in his brother's chest. There was a hard thump against his back, as another set of arms wrapped around him, then another. Donnie was vaguely aware of his name being repeated over and over. He recognized Raphael's gruffness and Michelangelo's exuberance. All three of them were there, encircling him. All he could do was sob and hoarsely call out for them.

The huddled mass of turtles moved into the layer in a scrum, unwilling to let go of one another. They tumbled onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Donnie still hadn't opened his eyes, afraid of breaking the spell. He felt himself slipping away. His exhausted mind couldn't process the soul-crushing low followed so swiftly by such a dizzying high. He didn't know if he was alive, or dead. He didn't care. There was a comforting weight on his back. The body below him was rising and falling as it took in breath and either laughed or cried, he couldn't tell which. It didn't matter anyway. The voices calling his name were all blending together. The sensation of a familiar furry hand caressing his head only made him cry harder. He cuddled closer to whoever had ended up beneath him and surrendered himself to the intoxication.

The reunited family wept and held each other tight for what felt like hours but was likely mere minutes. When the initial shock wore off, everyone was afraid to speak. It was Michelangelo who finally broke the silence. "Donnie, Donnie, is it really you?" he cried. He was met with silence.

"Donnie?" Leo called, to no avail. Donatello had ended up sandwiched between Leonardo and Michelangelo, with Raphael at their feet and Splinter hovering over them. Leo was pinned on his shell at the bottom of the pile and was unable to see Donnie's face. He felt the first twinges of panic rising. "Is he okay?"

Michelangelo carefully slid off Donatello's shell and down to the floor. Donnie had nuzzled beneath Leo's arm and smooshed his face into his brother's plastron. From what Mikey could see, Donatello's eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful, his breathing steady and deep. "I think he's sleeping," Mikey surmised.

Raphael chuckled. "Figures. Our Donnie always could sleep anywhere."

Relief washed over Leonardo. Donnie was safe. _Their Donnie_. Against all odds, he was home, but how did he get here? How could he have been alive all this time without them knowing?

Michelangelo covered his brothers with a blanket, but not before noting the painful looking divots and the network of partially healed fractures that ran across Donnie's back. "Oh jeez," Michelangelo muttered to himself. Best not to think about it for now. Instead of climbing back on top of the pile and further stressing Donnie's injured back, Michelangelo sat on the floor in front of the sofa, resting his head against Leo and Donnie's sides.

Raphael sat up a bit, and pulled Donatello's feet away from the edge, causing Donnie to grunt a bit. "Do you think that we should tend to his wounds, or just let him sleep?" Raph pondered as he tried to examine Donnie's bound leg a bit closer. Donatello whimpered and pulled the limb away, as if in response.

"Just let him sleep. He must be exhausted," Leonardo replied. Naturally, they all wanted to talk to Donnie more than anything but waking him up just seemed cruel. He must have been incredibly fatigued to have just passed out like that. Besides, they'd waited years to see him, a few more hours meant nothing. They all sat quietly for a while, holding on to Donatello as he slept, just as tightly as they could, and wondering what miracle had returned their dead brother to them.

"Do you think he's, you know… all there?" Raphael asked quietly, eyes wide. Both Splinter and Leo immediately shushed him.

"I'm just saying, he stumbled in here sobbing then he basically collapsed. Just look at him. He's clearly been through hell. We should probably prepare ourselves for the worst when he wakes up."

"Raphael, that is enough," Splinter scolded. "What if your brother were to wake and hear you speaking this way? No doubt Donatello has changed, but he must have fought long and hard to return to us. He wouldn't have been able to do that without at least some control of his faculties."

"I hope you're right," Raphael muttered as he gazed at Donnie. "He looks peaceful, at least."

"He does," Leo thoughtfully replied, wondering how that could be.

Donatello never stirred in his sleep. Occasionally Leonardo would shift his position, and Donnie would mutter a nonsensical complaint and squeeze his brother tighter. Each time it happened, Leo's heart swelled to the point that he felt it might burst. But as hours passed, with Donnie showing no signs of waking, Leo became concerned about something else bursting.

"You guys," he whispered. "I've really got to use the bathroom."

By now, it was the middle of the night. A half day had passed, and no one had dared moved from their awkward positions. They'd even chosen to forgo dinner. Mikey and Raph broke into laughter, although they stifled it as much as they could, for fear of waking Donnie. He must have noticed the noise, though, since he whimpered and hugged the panicked-looking Leonardo closer.

"Seriously guys, we need a plan here. Every time I try to move he squeezes me tighter. I need help."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Raphael said from behind Donnie's feet. "Mikey, tap in."

"Okay, quick and painless," said Mikey as he rose from the floor and assumed a crouching position. "One, two, three!"

As quickly as lightning, Leonardo pulled Donnie's arms apart and slid to the floor. Donnie lifted his head and let out another heartbreaking whimper. "Don't leave me," he slurred, blearily, his voice barely audible through his quivering lips. Michelangelo was there in a flash, lifting Donnie just enough to slide beneath his torso before pulling him into a tight hug that mirrored the one Leonardo had just held him in.

Donnie clamped on to Mikey and cuddled into his chest with a content sigh, apparently unaware that he was now clutching a different brother. Splinter watched from his chair with a peaceful smile, a bit amused, but also overwhelmingly proud of all his sons.

"There, there, bro. Mikey's got you," Michelangelo said as he rubbed Donnie's shell and rearranged the blanket. It was unclear if Donatello had fully awoken during the switch off, but if he had, it didn't last for more than a few seconds. Donnie's slow and steady breathing indicated that he had swiftly fallen back into a deep, and apparently very much needed slumber.

"Aw, no wonder Leo was hogging you. You're all warm and cozy." Michelangelo observed.

"Quit talking to him like he's the cat," Raphael grumbled, still stuck holding Donnie's legs.

Michelangelo rolled his eyes to hide his smile. "How can you be grumpy at a time like this, Raph?"

"We all have our talents."


	28. Chapter 28

**Still don't own anything**

* * *

Donatello began to slowly flutter into consciousness. He yawned and stretched his stiff muscles. Where was he? It was so warm and comfortable. Where the heck had this blanket come from? It was so soft. And was that bacon that he smelled? Donnie's eyes snapped open, as he realized that yesterday's events had really happened, and this wasn't just the afterglow from some wonderful dream. He was home! With his family! All of them! Last he remembered was questioning reality as he collapsed into Leonardo's arms. Donnie blinked and looked up. His eyes met...Raphael's?

"Hey there, Brainiac," Raphael said with a wide grin. "Bout time you woke up." Raphael looked overwhelmingly happy, more muscular, and very much alive. His two bright eyes were shining.

"H-hey. Hey Raph," Donatello stuttered. He suddenly felt so shy and unsure of himself. As much as he had been living in anticipation of this moment, he didn't know what to say or do now that it had finally arrived. He knew that this was really Raphael, but he felt like a stranger. And where was Leo? Had that been a figment of his imagination? Was Leo okay? Just before the familiar panic could completely take hold, there was movement at his feet, and Donnie felt a pair of strong arms gently wrap around his back in a careful hug.

"Welcome home, Donnie," came a calming, gentle voice that was unmistakably Leo's.

Donatello let out a squeak as he felt a few tears of relief slip out. He tried to hide them. He really didn't want to turn into a blubbering mess again. "Can't tell you guys how good it is to be here," he said, his voice wavering as he pulled them both a bit closer.

"Is that Donnie?" Mikey yelled from the kitchen. Instead of waiting for an answer he barreled into the living room and vaulted the coffee table, knocking his brothers back against the couch as he landed on top of them.

"Careful, we don't know..." Raphael's warning about Donatello's apparent fragility was interrupted by peals of laughter from both Donnie and Mikey. "Oh, guess that's okay then," Raph conceded.

Splinter entered and looked at the unfolding scene with a smile. However impossible it seemed, his family was whole once more.

Michelangelo was practically bubbling over. "I cooked, well, everything for breakfast. Come on, guys. You must be starving."

Donatello looked around for his walking stick but found that he didn't need it as Leonardo and Raphael enthusiastically pulled him to his feet and slid their arms behind his back. He leaned on them for support, with a bashful smile, and allowed himself to be half-carried into the kitchen.

"You really did make everything," Raphael observed as he stared at the feast set out on the table. "I didn't even know we had this much food in the lair."

"I figured if ever we had cause to break into my secret stashes, this was it. Besides, Donnie looks like he could use a good meal," Michelangelo explained as he watched Leonardo and Raphael settle Donatello into a chair. "Or rather a month or two of good meals," Mikey finished.

Donnie felt himself blush at all the attention. He knew he'd lost a lot of weight and muscle mass over the years, not to mention the disfiguring injuries to his shell and leg, and the scars that covered his body. His appearance must be so unsettling to those who had known and loved him best. Conversely, his family looked good - great, even. In sharp contrast to his nightmares, they were all here and healthy and whole. Each of them had grown at least a few inches taller, leaving chronically malnourished Donatello in their wake.

Donnie unexpectedly found himself fighting the desire to hide away somewhere. That cozy spot on the sofa came to mind. But this was him now, and his family was probably just happy to see him. Everyone was staring at him in anticipation. He pulled himself together, cleared his throat and offered a broad smile. "Well you're right about that. I'm starving. This all looks so good."

Donnie gazed at the spread before him in wonder. He hadn't had a hot meal since before the kidnaping, and the amount and variety of food in front of him was almost overwhelming. There was sausage, bacon, pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, yogurt and omelets. There was also a variety of fresh-cut fruit, cereal and juices. Donnie's stomach rumbled audibly, and his mouth was watering so much that he was concerned about the possibility of choking. After being close to starvation for so long, it was hard to believe that all of this was here for the taking. Moreover, after all the nightmares and abuse, it was hard to believe that there were still people in the world who loved him enough to let him be a part of this. Donnie's voice broke when he resumed speaking. "I've really missed your cooking, Mikey. I missed you. I've missed all of you so much." Damn it. He really didn't want to cry, but it was a real battle to keep the tears at bay. As it was, his family was looking at him as if he were about to shatter into a billion pieces.

Splinter sensed Donatello's struggle and spoke up. "I'd say we missed you as well, my son, but that doesn't even begin to describe it. We can discuss what has transpired later. For now, let's just enjoy this blessing, and our first meal together."

Leonardo made a heaping plate with generous portions of everything for Donnie and placed it in front of him, squeezing his brother's hand as he did so. Even at a glimpse, it was clear that Donnie had been through hell, and was in desperate need of some TLC. Raphael handed Donnie a glass of orange juice and watched as his brother immediately chugged it. Donnie downed the next one as well, realizing how dehydrated he had become.

Leonardo grinned at the sight, feeling thankful that Splinter had called a temporary moratorium on discussing the events of the past few years. He didn't know how he was going to speak to Donatello about what had happened. In his mind, he had let his brother down in so many ways. Not only did he let Donnie get kidnapped and then fail to rescue him, but he'd never even figured out where he was or who was holding him. Then he just gave him up for dead. How could he have let this happen? How could Donnie ever forgive them?

Leo was too busy brooding in his own dark thoughts to notice that nobody was speaking. The family was quietly eating and exchanging timid glances like a bunch of strangers. Although he was famished, Donnie was only picking at his food. The butterflies in his stomach were not allowing him to relish the meal like he should have.

"Well, don't everybody talk at once!" Mikey said. Everyone laughed a little too hard at that, relieved that the silence had been broken. "So, Donnie," he continued after a moment, "any idea how long you just slept?"

"Hmmm," Donnie breathed as he nervously thrummed his fingers against the tabletop. "I think that I got here in the afternoon, so I'm hoping this is breakfast for dinner. Buuut, by the look on your face I'm guessing that this is breakfast for breakfast?"

"Good to know you haven't lost your smarts, Bro," said Raphael, reaching over to clap Donnie on the shoulder.

Donatello pushed his fork around his plate and kept his eyes downcast. "Sorry I kept you pinned down like that for so long. I didn't even mean to fall asleep."

Raphael waved him off. "Don't worry about it. You were clearly exhausted. Besides, it was Leo you pinned down anyway. After a while we started taking shifts."

At that, Donnie batted his eyes upwards for a moment. "Thanks for doing that, guys. That really… it really means a lot to me. I was so scared that I'd never see you again, and even though I was unconscious, I think that I just… needed you near me."

"Anytime," Raphael said with a sentimental look. "We didn't want to let you out of our sight anyway."

Mikey nodded in agreement. "Oh, and you were out for just a hair short of 16 hours, in case you were wondering."

"A new family record," Leo added. "Kudos, bro."

"We oughta bronze your pillow or something." Mikey replied. "Although I guess in this case we all were your pillow, and I believe I speak for everyone when I say I'd rather not be dipped in metal."

"You're off the hook then. Now tell me how you guys have been," Donnie said with a crooked smile that belied the glassiness in his eyes.

"Terrible! How do you think we've been?" Leonardo complained. "We thought you were dead!"

Leonardo hadn't spoken all that loudly or harshly, but Donatello still reeled back like a frightened animal, almost falling out of his chair.

Splinter shushed his sons. "Not now."

"Sorry," Donnie and Leo said in unison.

"No need to apologize," Splinter soothed. "We just need to find a more pleasant topic of conversation."

"Kinda hard since pretty much anything that happened in the past four years is off limits," Raphael observed.

"We could talk about the weather," Leonardo said, apologetically. "That's what the humans talk about when they can't think of anything else to say."

"Hey, there's plenty of things to say," Michelangelo declared. "Oh, I know! We could talk about that time I won the battle nexus championship! You guys all remember that, right? So, like, what was your favorite move that I made?"

"Any of the ones that involved you keeping your mouth shut," Raphael groaned, pinching between his eyes. There was more that he'd been about to say. Something sarcastic, along the lines of, "see what you've been missing all these years?" but fortunately he caught himself first. Of course, Donnie would've missed this. As it was he was watching the scene unfold with misty eyes that still seemed to be worlds away.

It didn't take Donnie long to eat his fill. Everything was delicious, but his stomach was shrunken from years of limited use. Tempting as it was to continue, he didn't want to make himself sick. This didn't stop Mikey from trying to persuade him to eat more. In the end, they agreed to a regimented 'fatten Donnie up plan,' whereby Michelangelo would prepare snacks on a two-hour schedule during the waking hours.

After the deal had been sealed with a handshake, Leonardo looked expectantly at Donnie. "So now that you've had a chance to rest and eat, how about we get you patched up?"

Donnie had been warming up, but now his bashfulness returned in full force. He'd known this part was coming, but he really didn't want to have this conversation. "Thanks, but I don't think that I need any patching," he mumbled.

Leonardo pressed on. "Are you sure? You look pretty banged up."

Donnie shrunk lower in his seat, staring at the tabletop and stuttering. "Well, uh, most of what you're seeing are scars. Not much is, uh... fresh."

"What about your leg? It looks serious, Don," Leo noted.

"Well that's, you know, kind of... permanent."

"Permanent?" Leonardo parroted.

"Yeah. It was one of the ways they kept me from escaping." Donnie saw a potential chance to lighten the mood, which was quickly becoming tense, "or tried to anyways," he said with a wink.

Raphael and Michelangelo had turned from the sink to follow the conversation. "You mean they purposefully maimed you?" Raph rumbled with a look of rage etched on his features.

"Well, yeah," Donatello explained mildly, as if what he had just said wasn't completely revolting. "It was kind of a failsafe, to ensure that I couldn't move too fast or get too far."

Leonardo didn't know what to say, or what to do. He wanted to break something or hit someone. He wanted to storm out the door. He wanted to shake Donnie and scream at him, "Who?! For the love of god, who?! Who had done this to him?! To them!" But he couldn't do that. He couldn't look Donnie in the eye and admit that they never even figured out who took him. He felt like such a failure. He was even failing to come up with a response. When it finally came, Leo's voice cracked with emotion. "Oh, Donnie," he moaned, feeling like his heart was breaking. At least he'd broken the silence along with it.

"It's okay," Donnie comforted. I made it out. No prison can hold me, apparently." Donatello realized that this was a lie as soon as the words left his lips, so he added an addendum. "Well, not forever anyway."

Splinter looked at Donnie with unabashed pride, "I sense that your spirit remains unbroken, my son. That's the most important thing." Splinter laid a paw on Donnie's hand and squeezed.

"I'd like to think you're right, father. I hope you are," Donnie said wistfully. He wasn't so sure.

"Why don't you accompany me to the dojo? I'd like to talk to you in private for a bit," Splinter requested.

Donnie hesitated before answering and looked back at his brothers reluctantly. It wasn't that he didn't want to go with his father, per se. He just hated to be separated from them so quickly. Mikey wiggled his fingers near his face and silently mouthed "you're in troub-le." Raph rolled his eyes at Mikey's antics, and Leo waved Donnie onwards encouragingly. Donnie's heart twisted, but he pushed off the table to join his father. He gave his brothers a small smile and wave as he was leaving.

Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo watched as Splinter helped Donatello limp towards the dojo. After Donnie's cracked shell disappeared, they turned to each other in disbelief. It felt like they had been struck by lightning on an otherwise clear day. This had come out of nowhere. After four years, no one had expected to find Donnie alive, never mind standing at their old door. Each of them was filled with boundless happiness, but there were undercurrents of other feelings as well.

Leonardo was nagged by simmering guilt and something approaching resentment. For years, he had held out hope that Donnie might be alive, but the others had convinced him that it wasn't possible. No, that wasn't right. Leonardo had _allowed himself_ to become convinced, because he was tired of failure and hurting. He had given up on Donnie and moved on. Now he felt an unwelcome sense of self-loathing beginning to encroach on his newfound happiness. He didn't know how he could ever look Donnie in the eye again. His joy at his brother's return was already becoming tainted by his own regrets and dark feelings. Leonardo was self-aware enough to realize that a good meditation session was needed to tackle those dark emotions before they became problematic.

Raphael didn't feel guilty or conflicted at all. His feelings were simple. He wanted nothing more than to run through the dojo doors, tackle Donnie in a hug, then pour his heart out. Donnie had only been gone for a minute, and Raphael missed him already. His protective instincts were screaming at him that Donnie should never be allowed out of his sight again. Furthermore, Donnie had always been the brother Raphael could really talk to. He wanted to have that back and he wanted Donnie to pour his own heart out in return. Raphael wanted to know everything about the past four years, where Donnie was, how he was treated, and who exactly Raphael had to find and kill to make this right.

Michelangelo didn't want to hear any of that. He'd be perfectly happy never knowing all the horrible details. The only thing he cared about was the future. He wanted to put some meat on Donnie's bones. He'd hand-feed him like a baby bird if necessary. He wanted to buy him some cool novelty tee-shirts to cover up that smashed-in shell, and some sort of pants voluminous enough to hide the leg. When that was done, he wanted to throw a big party to celebrate his brother's return. But, Mikey doubted that Donnie wanted a party, so that was off the table. Therefore, Michelangelo would settle for simply hearing his brother's gentle laugh again.

The one thought that each of them shared was that they wanted Donnie to be healed. Those scars and injuries were too much to take in. They each internally vowed that no matter how much it would cost them, or how long it would take, they would find a way to make Donnie better again.

* * *

A hundred questions swirled through Donatello's mind, but he held his tongue as he met his father's gaze. It had been so long since he entered the dojo, so long since he had spent time alone with his sensei. Did he even belong here anymore? He was no longer a ninja, of that he was certain. Out of long forgotten habit, Donnie attempted to pull himself into something of a modified lotus position, but of course his right leg remained stiff and stretched out before him.

"Just be at ease, my son," Splinter said.

Hearing his father say those words sent a bolt of warmth and tenderness through Donatello's whole being. He had longed for this intimacy through the years of captivity. He had been so worried about his father's health - so worried that they would never see each other again. He ceased his struggle and let his body relax.

Splinter watched Donatello's eyes sparkle, amazed that such a light could remain there after the untold pain and torture his beloved son had undoubtedly endured. He had always been proud of each of his children, but he could never recall being so taken aback by one of them. His boy had such astounding strength of mind and spirit, to have been able to find his way home again. "Donatello," Splinter began, before finding that he had no words. His son just watched him with those keenly intelligent eyes. Splinter cleared his throat and tried again.

"Donatello, you must have so many questions. There is so much that has passed, and so much that must still pass between us before we will feel whole again. Tell me, is there anywhere in particular that you would like to begin?"

Donnie let out a long breath and cast his eyes downward, only to feel his father's hand clench his shoulder. "It's all right, my son, we don't need to speak if you don't want to." Splinter leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his long-lost son. "Perhaps it is even better if we don't."

Donatello eagerly returned the hug, allowing his head to rest on his father's shoulder while Splinter ran a hand up and down his scarred shell. Donnie sighed in contentment, feeling whole for the first time in years. The simple pleasures of a good night's rest, a lovingly prepared meal and a caring embrace were working wonders on his battered soul.

It became clear that Splinter had no intention of letting go anytime soon, and Donatello certainly had no desire to do so. The two stayed wrapped in each other's arms on the floor of the dojo, wordlessly enjoying their reunion. Both of their minds returned to a simpler time, when little Donnie would toddle up to his father with a scraped knee or elbow, and Splinter would make it all better with a band aid and a kiss. These wounds would be far more difficult to heal, but as they sat in each other's' arms, neither of them doubted that they would somehow be able to make things right in time.

While he never would've admitted it, Splinter had an ulterior motive for this private meeting. Raphael had been the first to voice this concern while Donnie was asleep. It was possible that Donatello was not fully intact, mentally. Furthermore, some niggling part of Splinter's mind feared that this could be some sort of trick. It wouldn't be the first time that they had been subjected to an illusion. Splinter had reached out to Donatello's spirit so many times, finding only emptiness at every turn. Like the others, he had truly believed Donatello to be dead. As much as he wanted to believe that by some miracle, his lost son had returned, he had to be sure.

So, Splinter closed his eyes as he held Donatello, allowing himself to fall effortlessly into a light state of meditation that had become second nature to him. He tenuously extended his mind towards the body in his arms, careful not to be intrusive. What he was met with lifted his heart. Donatello's unmistakable purple aura flared before him in all its glory.

Knowledge, creativity, integrity, strength, a powerful heart, capable of deep feeling, a respect for all life, and a desire assist others - this was the remarkable spiritual essence of Donatello. This was the unique, unreplicatable core of him, and all of it was still there.

In addition to determining that this was definitely his son, Splinter was also able to see that Donatello was relatively uncorrupted. While there were some flickers of black, which was an indicator of pain, the primary aural color was still that rare and vibrant purple that made Donatello Donatello. Strange that a sensitive soul could survive for so long with so little to nourish it.

"Have you found what you are looking for?" Donatello whispered from somewhere near Splinter's pounding heart.

Splinter pulled back, keeping his arms around Donatello's shoulders. "Yes, my son. Please forgive my intrusion."

"No bother. I'm having a hard time believing all of this is real as well."

Splinter chuckled. "You will in time. But for now, would you share a cup of tea with me?"

"I'd love to, father."

Splinter pet Donatello's bony shoulder as he rose to prepare the beverage. While waiting for him to return, Donnie let his eyes drift around the once familiar room. While it was largely unchanged, a display in the corner caught his attention.

One of his bo staffs was leaning against the wall, an old purple mask elegantly draped across the top. A chain of paper cranes was wrapped around them both. Hundreds of them hung from the ceiling and wall, spilling over onto the floor. Donnie couldn't resist limping across the room to examine them closer. He touched one of the cranes, admiring its delicate perfection. It was not constructed from traditional origami paper.

"We made them from some of your old blueprints," Splinter noted as he returned with a tray of tea. "It seemed fitting and made us feel closer to you."

Donnie recognized snippets of his careful penmanship peeking out from the wings. He wondered how long all of this had taken, and what they were thinking when they constructed it. Was it meant as a prayer or memorial? Either way, it's poignancy was undeniable.

"It's beautiful," Donnie said reverently, feeling like he was staring at his own grave.

"I'm glad that you like it, Splinter said from Donnie's side. "We all poured a lot of love into it over the years. Love which we would have much preferred to offer you directly, my son. Now have some tea with your father."

Donnie sank down and took the cup that Splinter offered, relishing its warmth in his hands. He took in the aroma. It was an herbal willow bark blend that Splinter had prepared often through the years. When they were younger, Splinter had avoided most medicines out of fear that they would harm his mutated sons. It took time to learn to read, to understand what may work on their unique anatomies, and to get past the fear of overdoses and bad reactions. He had come to rely primarily on herbal remedies and eastern medicine. This particular blend was one that he used when his sons were hurting, sick, or needing to calm down.

Donnie took a sip of the soothing liquid. It tasted like home.

* * *

 **As always, thanks for your reviews, favorites and follows, and thanks for reading.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT. Also, there is a very long and probably very boring author's note at the end.**

* * *

When Donnie emerged from the dojo, he found all three of his brothers waiting expectantly, while pretending to be busy with mundane tasks. A huge smile split his face. "Hi guys!"

"So, did you get into trouble?" Mikey asked with a smirk.

"Yes, I grounded him. He is never to leave the lair again," Splinter replied from beneath Donnie's shoulder.

"Seems fitting," said Raphael.

Donnie laughed, and it was music to his family's ears. "You'll get no argument from me," he conceded.

"Uh, so what next?" The question was on everybody's mind, but it was Mikey who voiced it. Out of habit, the brothers looked to Leo, who just shrugged. Donnie spoke up before the silence grew awkward.

"Well, I've been dreaming of a long, hot shower. I've got about four years of filth and bad memories to wash away." Donnie was still covered in grime from the dozens of falls he'd taken in the sewer on his way home. It was a wonder that they had let him sleep and eat, rather than dumping his sorry shell directly into the tub. He made a mental note to thank them for that later.

"About that," Raphael started. "We lost the hot water in the shower over a year ago."

Donatello's legendary curiosity was piqued. "Just in the shower? It works everywhere else?"

"Yeah," Mikey replied. "It's just out in the shower and tub. Hot water pipe must've broken or something. We never found a leak, though."

"Sounds like the mixing valve. I'll take a look at it."

"Heck no you won't," Leo cut in.

Donnie shrunk back as though he had been physically struck. "What?!" he asked, defensively.

Leonardo was chagrined at starling his poor brother. He softened his demeanor, realizing yet again that Donatello had been utterly traumatized and needed to be handled with kid-gloves. "You just came back from the dead. You should kick back and relax for a while. You don't need to worry about cleaning up our messes."

"It's me that wants the shower. If it's the mixing valve it should be an easy fix. It's really not a big deal."

"It is to me," Leonardo insisted. "Would a hot bath be okay? I'll just fill the tub using the sink."

"Yeah, that sounds nice, actually. Thanks, Leo." Donnie wasn't backing down just to avoid a fight. After all the freezing cold hose downs, a hot bath sounded much better than a shower.

Leonardo disappeared into the bathroom and began filling the tub using some flexible rubber hosing that he connected to the sink. He even dumped some of Master Splinter's therapeutic oils into the tub.

Back in the main room, Donnie looked to his other two brothers. "You've really gone a year without a hot shower?"

"Leo and Master Splinter said that cold showers build character and help with conditioning," Michelangelo responded. "I think they were just trying to keep us from whining about it."

"I don't mind a cold shower," Raphael boasted. "Anyway, Casey and I both tried to fix it when it first happened, but we couldn't figure it out. Nobody was complaining, so we just let the matter drop."

"I was complaining!" Mikey whined.

"You know you don't count!" Raphael said as he gave Mikey's head a condescending pat.

Donnie grinned at Raphael and Michelangelo's banter. His teeth were sparkling white, and still perfect. It did his brothers' hearts good to see that at least one bit of him was unharmed.

"I'm on your side, Mikey," Donnie mused. "Cold showers sound just awful. You and I are gonna fix this together, as soon as things settle down a little."

Donnie had been expecting some form of energetic response from Mikey, but he wasn't prepared for what he was met with. Michelangelo burst into tears and grabbed onto his wayward brother like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. "Oh Shell, Donnie! I've missed you so much! Never leave again!"

"I won't, Mikey, I won't." Donnie tried to hug Michelangelo back, but his arms were pinned against his sides. "I never wanted to leave, to begin with." Donnie semi-successfully hid his tears. As far as he was concerned, he was never leaving home again.

"Bath's ready," Leonardo called. Raphael told a sobbing Michelangelo to take a breather and assisted Donnie to the bathroom himself.

They found Leonardo sitting on the edge of the tub. "Why don't I take it from here?" Leo prodded.

"Uh, okay," Raphael shrugged. He lowered Donnie to the edge of the tub next to Leo. "Just holler if you need anything."

Once Raphael left, Donnie turned to Leo. He tried to speak gently and lovingly. "I don't need help bathing myself, Leo."

"What about washing your shell, and getting this brace off?" Leonardo argued, wanting desperately to be able to help with something. He knew he could never make up for what happened, but he had to start somewhere.

Donnie sensed this, but he also didn't want to allow the others to view him as some pathetic, lost soul. It was bad enough that he couldn't walk around easily, and he wouldn't be able to train or patrol with them. As is often the case, balance was needed. "I can do it, but when you put it that way, a little help does sound nice."

Leo smiled. "Stay here. I'll go get a razor blade for all of this duct tape."

Donnie sat and waited patiently for Leo, drumming his fingers thoughtfully along the edge of the tub. He really didn't want Leo to see his leg, or anybody for that matter. Leonardo returned and began slicing away. "Jeez, Donnie, did you use enough of this stuff?"

"Well, you know me. I've always loved duct tape."

"Some things never change, huh?"

"No. Some things never do. So, listen, about my leg...You're not going to like what you see, and I'd rather not have to talk about it right now."

"I get it. I've been holding my tongue, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you all have, and I really appreciate it. I promise I'll tell you guys everything, whatever you want to know. I'd just like to enjoy a few days of happiness first, before I start having to relive everything."

"I get it. I'm not pushing you, Don. I haven't even said anything!"

"I know. I just wanted to get that out there."

"Okay. I think that you'll find that we're all going to do whatever we can to make you happy." It's not like Leo wanted to see Donnie's maimed leg. Admittedly a little part of him was curious, but a bigger part of him was scared and hesitant. He really didn't want to know what was beneath the brace. It was bad enough seeing his brother's battered shell and the deep marks on his wrists and ankles that graphically indicated how long and how mercilessly he had been restrained. Leonardo finished slicing through the tape and began carefully peeling it back from Donnie's leg. He pretended not to notice how awful it looked.

"We're going to need something to strip away the tackiness. Do you guys have any baby oil or rubbing alcohol?" Donnie asked.

Leo was a little annoyed that Donnie posed the question as though he was a guest in this home. "Yes, we do," Leo responded, heavily emphasizing the 'we' and hoping that Donnie got the point. "Hold on."

Donnie winced as Leonardo pulled the splint away. Leo then soaked a face cloth with rubbing alcohol and got to work. To his credit, Leo didn't outwardly react to Donnie's injury at all, but internally, he was horrified. Once all the stickiness was gone, he rinsed Donnie's leg off and assisted him into the tub. Donnie sighed and closed his eyes as the warm water overtook him.

Leo let Donnie soak for a few minutes to loosen up the filth that was caked into the divots in his shell. From his seat on the side of the tub, Leo inspected his brother with dismay. Instinctively, he reached down and began to rub Donnie's shoulders. Not expecting the touch, Donnie tensed up for a moment. This wasn't the sort of thing that the turtles had ever done for one another, but he supposed that special treatment would be par for the course in the coming days. After he had a minute to process what was happening, Donnie began to relax, sinking further into the tub. He let out a long sigh, and thanked Leonardo, allowing himself to be pampered a bit. The warm water and massage was so soothing, Donnie began to grow tired again. He didn't know how that was possible after 16 hours of sleep, but he didn't much feel like fighting it.

Realizing that Donnie was on the verge of dozing off, Leo tapped his brother's shoulder and maneuvered him forward. For the next fifteen minutes, he gently worked at cleaning off Donnie's shell with a facecloth and a scrubbing brush. Much to Leo's horror, the steady flow of dirt was tinged with blood. Leo felt the need to talk, if only to distract himself from the sight, and fill the awkward silence that was stretching between them. He whispered when he spoke. It just felt more appropriate somehow.

"Donnie, I know you don't want to talk about anything just yet, but I just need to be sure that you know, I would've done anything to save you. I wish it was me in your place. I really do. I hope that you can forgive me someday."

For several long moments, the only answer was the peaceful sloshing of water. "Forgive you for what?" Donnie finally asked.

To Leo the answer should have been obvious. "For not saving you."

"This morning you said you thought I was dead," Donnie responded with a mechanical voice.

"I did," Leo confirmed.

"Why would you have tried to save me if you thought I was dead?"

Leo didn't have a direct answer. "I don't know, but clearly I shouldn't have given up on you."

"You had no way of knowing and you couldn't have taken my place. I was the only one they were interested in, and they would have gotten me one way or another. Please don't beat yourself up."

"But-"

Donnie cut Leo off. "Please don't beat yourself up," he repeated. "Please. There was nothing you could have done."

Leo could hear that Donnie was getting upset, so he let the matter drop, and refocused himself on scrubbing. After he was satisfied with the cleanliness of Donnie's shell, Leo drained the tub and refilled it with fresh hot water and oils. At Donnie's behest, Leonardo then left his brother to finish up and relax in privacy.

Even though he had asked for it, Donnie felt a little strange once he was left alone. As much as he didn't want to be separated from his brothers, he also recognized that it was good for him to process things quietly for a bit. Yesterday at this time, he wasn't even sure if they were alive or dead. So much had happened since then. It still felt like some wonderful dream.

Half an hour later, the oily, soothing water had Donnie almost dozing off again, when a knock came at the door. "It's just me," Michelangelo called.

Donnie smiled to himself, feeling mellow and so much better. "Come on in," he replied.

Mikey entered backwards, carrying a platter. "I've got your snack," he announced as he swung around. "It's a banana chocolate-chip muffin with a fruit cup on the side."

Donnie lit up. "Tub-side service? I could get used to this. Thanks, Mikey."

"Yeah, you're gonna get so spoiled, bro," Michelangelo exclaimed.

Donnie chuckled. "Feels like I should deny that, but Leo just massaged my shoulders and then insisted on washing my shell, so…"

"Speaking of spoiling you, do you want some more hot water?" Michelangelo offered.

Donatello realized he had no reason to get out of the tub anytime soon. He had no schedule, no responsibilities, no obligations. "Sure. Why not, right?"

After Mikey finished catering to him, Donnie soaked a while longer. Just when he was contemplating getting out, another knock on the door came. This time, it was Raphael, who was weighed down by a pile of miscellaneous items. He unceremoniously dumped them all on the bathroom floor, causing Donnie to cringe at the clatter that arose. "What's all this? he asked, when the ringing in his ears died down."

"Options," Raphael answered, "for your new splint."

Donnie and Raph always did enjoy working on projects together. "I guess the dynamic duo is back together," Donatello happily declared.

"You know it. And, I think that we can do better than your duct tape and plastic pipe design."

"Cut me a break, Raph. I was in a hurry." Donatello pulled himself out of the water and allowed Raphael to wrap him in a fluffy towel before lowering himself to the floor. "So, did you become the family medic in my absence?" he asked.

"We're all on even footing with regard to that. I just thought that this could be where I helped you out. Mikey's feeding you and Leo cleaned you up. Figured this could be our thing."

Donnie brightly smiled his consent, showing off his perfect teeth. The two then turned their attention to the pile and set to work on constructing a more suitable brace and patching up Donnie's many small scrapes. When they emerged from the bathroom just before lunch, Donnie looked much cleaner and a lot less ragged.

Lunch was far less tense than breakfast had been, but it was clear that it was going to take time for things to feel normal again. It didn't help that Donnie hadn't said word one about whatever had happened to him, and everyone else was afraid to broach the subject. Fortunately, they had Michelangelo, and this was exactly the sort of social situation that he was designed for.

"Sooo, Donnie. I don't mean to upset you or anything, and you totally don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but maybe you could at least tell us about how you escaped? I mean, you don't need to tell us any of the bad stuff until you're ready, but the getaway part has got to be good, right?"

"Yeah, it's a good story. I can tell it," Donnie said between bites of his sandwich. Everyone grew quiet and turned to him with interest. He lowered the sandwich and gathered his thoughts. "Well, I was held in one place for pretty much the whole time, and it was completely inescapable. Then, a few weeks ago, I was supposedly liberated by the FBI. But, I figured out that it was really the same group of people that I'd been with all along, trying to trick me. They'd been trying to get me to work for them ever since they took me, and I'd been resisting." Donnie wasn't ready to talk about the coercion attempts, the brainwashing, the drug testing, or the mental torture. That part could come out later.

"Once I figured out that it wasn't really the FBI, I blew up a part of the building and jumped into a nearby river. Turns out that I was still in New York, so I just started walking. Now, here I am," Donnie finished proudly.

"You blew up their facility?" Raphael asked. He was clearly impressed.

"Part of it, anyways. I didn't exactly stick around to see how destructive the chain reaction was. Did you guys happen to see anything on the news about an explosion on Long Island?" Donnie asked.

"There was a hydrogen explosion at a material testing facility out there, but that was a couple of weeks ago," Leo said thoughtfully.

"I bet that was me!" Donnie cheerfully replied. "They were probably working under the guise of a lab in order to cover up their chemical usage."

"But Leo said that was two weeks ago," Mikey pondered. "You haven't been free for two weeks. Have you?"

Donnie reddened in the face a bit. "I had to make sure that I wasn't being tracked. And, I was sick. I wasn't sure if they infected me with something, so I couldn't risk spreading it around the city, or transmitting it to you guys. I had to stay isolated until I was sure I was healthy."

"You were sick?" Michelangelo cringed sympathetically. The thought of Donnie sick and alone broke his heart all over again. He must have wanted to come home so badly, but he resisted and suffered by himself for the greater good. Mikey hadn't had time to process the true implications of Donnie having been alive all this time. He didn't even want to think about what his brother had been through. Just this small glimpse of the past few weeks was bad enough.

Rather than responding to Mikey, Donnie fixed his eyes on his plate and picked at the corner of his sandwich. This conversation was beginning to venture down a path he wasn't ready for. Turns out he didn't need to respond, as Mikey's arms closed in around him. "It's all behind us, now," Michelangelo soothed. "You're home to stay."

"Thanks, Mikey," Donnie said in a shaky voice.

"You did good blowing the place up, Brainiac," Raph praised.

"And getting back to us," Leo added. "We're proud of you, Donatello."

"Thanks, guys," Donnie said, fighting back tears. "Let's stick to happier topics for now, though. How are all of our friends?"

"Oh man, our friends! They're going to be so jazzed to hear that you're alive!" Mikey rejoiced, squeezing his brother tighter.

"Leatherhead and Professor Hunnicutt are on the Utrom home world," Leo supplied. "And the Daimyo and his son are doing well. So are Usagi and Jin. Renet sees Mikey pretty regularly, so she's crazy, but otherwise fine. The professor got himself a job at the library and is living in an apartment with his friends now. Angel got into UCLA, so we've all become Bruins fans. Karai is keeping busy but doing okay" Leo drummed his fingers. "Who else, who else?" he trailed off with a knowing smile.

Mikey felt the need to fill in the obvious blank, "April and Casey."

"They've been busy," Raphael stated. "They'll want to see you as soon as we talk to them, so they can just fill you in on everything themselves."

Donnie smiled knowingly. He suspected they'd had a kid or two in the time he'd been gone.

"Oh, and there's Sydney," Mikey remembered. "She came looking for you a few years back. We'll have to get in touch with her for sure."

"She was looking for me?" Donnie asked, feeling strange that he would have been singled out by their old friend. She had pretty much kept to herself after her rescue from the underground.

"Yeah," Mikey answered. "She wanted to thank you again for everything. She was pretty upset when we told her what happened."

"Everyone was upset," Leo provided. "It's a miracle that you're still alive, Donnie."

"Is it? I don't really know what happened on that night. My alleged death must have been pretty convincing, huh?"

The brothers looked at each other somewhat guiltily. Looking back, maybe it hadn't been all that convincing after all. "The dumpster you were in exploded, along with the loading dock, the truck, and half the building." Raphael disclosed all that he was comfortable with at the moment.

"Oh," Donnie said a little glumly. "I suppose that would do it."

"Let's just change the subject," Mikey suggested. "What should we do with the rest of the day?" When no one spoke up right away, he continued. "We could make a bunch of calls. Let everyone know that Donnie's alive."

"I don't know, Mikey," Donnie hesitated. "I think I'd like to spend a quiet day or two with you guys first. Not sure I'm ready to face anyone else yet."

Seeing Donnie beginning to get distressed, Leo jumped to his defense. "I agree. Let's just chill out here. It's been four years. What's a few more days?"

"Wise idea," Splinter added. "We have all earned some rest and relaxation. Might I suggest a movie marathon?"

"No training or meditation?" Mikey said hopefully.

"No," Splinter confirmed. "Take the day off."

"No patrol?" Mikey checked with Leo.

Leo grinned and shook his head no. "Of course not."

Mikey was practically jittering with excitement and grabbed a hold of Donatello again. "Can I help you pick the movies? There are so many good ones that you've missed! We've got a whole collection! Come on, let me show you!"

It wasn't long before they were all settled in. Donnie tried to steer clear of anything with too much violence. He wasn't sure how he would react to that, given all the trauma he had endured over the past few years. Given the occupants of this home, that didn't leave a lot to choose from. Donnie figured that realistic violence was more of a concern than cartoon violence, so they settled for the newest Star Wars and superhero movies.

Donnie settled himself in the middle of the sofa, his bad leg elevated on the coffee table, secure in its brand new splint. Soon, he found himself wedged between Mikey and Raph with a big bowl of popcorn on his lap, squeezed in so tight he could hardly breath. Naturally, he loved it. There was nothing that could disturb the intense happiness he felt sitting there between his brothers again. They all stayed planted on the sofa for hours. Leo eventually snuck out to pick up some pizza for dinner, and when he returned they had a pizza party for five right there in the living room. A few hours later, when Donnie got tired, he simply slunk down a bit and rested his head on Raph's shoulder. Raph put an arm around him and pulled him in closer. Donnie happily drifted off to sleep for the night. When he woke up, Raphael still had that protective arm around him, and Michelangelo was snoring in his lap.

* * *

 **Throughout this fic, I have worried that I have depicted Donnie as being too strong. I hope that I haven't stretched the bounds of reality too much, where that's concerned. I'd like to think that I offered some plausible reasons as to how he was able to hold himself together. His captors were intentionally trying to keep him at least somewhat sane, after all. And, while he was very brave and capable in finding his way home, he's definitely going to fall apart at some point. The 2003 version of Donnie seemed pretty good at suppressing emotion and putting blinders on, but that will only get him so far. He's in a well-deserved honeymoon period now that he's home, but at a certain point everything will catch up with him. Fortunately, he will have his family there to support him when that time comes.**

 **On a related note, I hope that this part of the story isn't too boring. I've read a lot of great hurt/comfort fics, but I feel as though sometimes the comfort part gets rushed. When I set out to write this, my plan was to really focus on how Donnie gets put back together again. Naturally, there will be action as well, but it's not really the main focus. I'm sure that will be boring for some people, but it's the stuff that I most enjoy writing.**

 **What's unique about the turtles is how much they depend upon each other. They don't have a society to turn to - no doctors, psychiatrists or support groups are available. They just do their best with what they have. I love that about them! They found a way to move on when they thought Donnie was dead, now they are going to put those skills to good use in helping Donnie move on from his own demons.**

 **I suppose I've droned on for long enough now. As always, thanks for reading!**


	30. Chapter 30

Donatello's second day home passed much the same way as the first. Everyone stayed holed up in the lair. No one spoke about what had transpired or contacted any of their friends to let them know that Donnie was alive. Practice and patrol were canceled. Mikey cooked too much food and pressured people to eat it before it spoiled, only to turn around and do the same thing for the next meal. Donnie steered clear of his bedroom, the lab and the garage, in favor of staying glued to his family's sides. The television served as a constant distraction. The conversation was focused mostly upon safe topics, and felt a bit forced and awkward, but the affection and relief were undeniable. At the end of the day, everyone fell asleep huddled together in the living room for the third night in a row.

Early the next morning, Donnie was the first to wake amid the tangle of his brothers. He began to stir and slowly extricate himself, trying not to disturb any of them. Now that he had a few days of rest and proper nutrition, he found that he was able to get around a lot more easily. The new and improved splint was helping as well.

From his own room, Splinter could hear someone moving about in the bathroom. He knew that it must be Donatello, from the clunky sound of his uneven gait. When he heard him passing by his bedroom door, Splinter poked his head out. "Good morning, my son."

Donnie smiled brightly and bowed a bit in greeting. "Good morning, father. How did you sleep?"

Splinter put a grizzled paw on the scarred shell. "Very well. My rest is much improved since you have returned to us."

"Mine too," Donnie grinned.

"Do you wish to join me for some morning tea in the dojo? I would very much enjoy spending some time alone with you."

Donatello didn't hesitate. "Sure, I would. I think the one good thing about my kidnapping is that I managed to kick my coffee addiction. Might as well start drinking tea, right?"

Splinter took his boy by the arm. "Well, at the very least it is a good excuse to spend time with your father. Leonardo was the only one of you to ever take a liking to it."

Donnie looked down at his father, his eyes full of steadfast love. "I hardly need an excuse to spend time with you. These days, I've got all the time in the world, and there is no one else I'd rather share it with."

Splinter pulled Donatello into a hug, warmed by his son's open-hearted affection. Of all his boys, Donatello had always been the most private with his emotions. Splinter found it interesting that all the trauma had apparently given him cause to break down those barriers, rather than build them higher. For most people, it would have had the opposite effect. But then, Donatello always had been full of surprises.

Splinter and Donatello settled down with their tea and sat in companionable silence for a while. Donatello finally leaned forward and whispered, "Everyone has been walking on eggshells around me, like they expect me to suddenly fall apart or to disappear again."

"It is hard to believe that you are here and that you are whole, my son. We were so firmly convinced that you were dead," Splinter whispered back.

"I'm not dead and I'm not going to fall to pieces just because someone looks at me the wrong way. Admittedly, I need a lot of support right now, but I'm stronger than I look. You guys don't need to be so worried."

"Your strength is very evident, Donatello. Have no fear of that. We simply don't want to make you uncomfortable by speaking of the time that you were imprisoned before you are ready." Splinter paused to consider his wording before continuing. "But, naturally, we all have a lot of questions, and holding them back is difficult. I believe that this is the source of the... awkwardness."

Donnie looked deep into his teacup as he spoke. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about what happened to me, but I'd like to know about some of the things that went on around here while I was gone." Donnie shook his head sadly. "I know that there are things that you guys might not want me to know yet. But believe me, the truth can't be any worse than my imagination, and I need to know what to do to make things right."

Splinter furrowed his brow. "Donatello, it is not your place to make things right. That is our burden, not yours. Tell me why you would think otherwise."

"Because I'm the one who disappeared," Donatello explained, hanging his head.

Splinter ducked down to meet his son's gaze. "And you feel this was your fault?"

Donnie shrugged. "Well, no. But you all must have found some sort of new normal without me, and now I've disrupted that."

Donatello's voice did not waver or break but Splinter sensed distress and pulled his son back into his arms. "It was the most wonderful disruption, though."

Don chuckled a bit, and a lone tear rolled down his face and onto his father's shoulder. "Thanks," he said as he wiped his cheek. "I really do want to know more about what you guys have been up to, and how you've been. A lot must have changed in four years. Honestly, I was kind of surprised to even find you here."

"There were certainly times that we did contemplate leaving, but it rather felt like letting go of the last piece of you that we had left. Leonardo, in particular, struggled with this."

Donnie spoke into Splinter's fur. "You stayed because of me, even though you thought I was dead?"

"In some ways, yes," Splinter explained. "We had so many fond memories of being together here, and the upgrades that you made to this place would have been difficult for us to replicate elsewhere. Since this home was never discovered, we never truly had reason to leave. And, there was always that possibility that you might show up at the door. So, it was decided that when we did leave, it wouldn't be for very long."

Donatello hummed. "Well, I'm certainly grateful for that. Given the shape that I was in when I got here, I don't think that I would have made it for more than another day or two without you guys."

"You should thank Leonardo. He was the most insistent about staying. Even when we feared that there could be danger here, he refused to leave. It was a struggle even convincing him to take a vacation or pursue off-world missions."

"I will be sure to do that," Donatello nodded.

"And, I hope that you can learn to forgive the rest of us," Splinter added, pulling away to meet his son's eyes.

"What's to forgive? You did nothing wrong," Donnie said with genuine confusion apparent in his voice.

Splinter made sure to keep one hand grasping Donnie's shoulder. "Donatello, we gave you up for dead when clearly you were not. This was a terrible thing to have done, and you have suffered greatly for it."

Donatello tensed, how many times would he be forced to repeat the same conversation? "It was a mistake, nothing more," he firmly dismissed. "All the evidence pointed to my death. You did all you could."

Splinter refused to let his son pull away, physically or emotionally. "That much is true, but in time, I believe that you will realize there is still a need for forgiveness. Just know that your presumed death did not mean that our love for you was ever diminished."

"I know," Donnie sighed. "I thought that you guys were dead too. If anything, it made me love you more."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say." Splinter winked.

"Yeah," Donnie smiled, "It really does."

Splinter and Donatello enjoyed their tea while reminiscing and made plans to turn it into a daily ritual. When they emerged from the dojo, the rest of the turtles were up and about. Michelangelo was cooking breakfast, Raphael was on the phone, and Leonardo was preparing the chess set. It was Leo that Donnie approached.

Leo cringed a little when Donnie hobbled over. While he was already doing much better, the poor guy seemed to be having such a tough time moving around. Donnie remained insistent that he didn't need first aid, so Leo bit his tongue and greeted his brother. "Morning, Donnie. I was hoping we could play later." Leo indicated the chess set. "No one else ever wants to, except Master Splinter. But he always beats me."

"Is that your way of saying you're not going to let me win?" Donnie asked.

Leonardo raised an eye ridge. "Do you _want me_ to let you win?"

Leo and Donnie were interrupted by Michelangelo ringing the chow bell. "Breakfast is ready, boys!"

Raphael pocketed his phone, blew into the kitchen and looked at the display on the table with dismay. "What the heck is this supposed to be?"

"Eggs Benedict and prosciutto-wrapped melon," Michelangelo explained, defensively.

Raphael was borderline offended. "We're damn sewer mutants, Mikey. What's with all this hoity-toity shit?!" He picked up a piece of the delicate egg dish with two fingers and glared at it as though it was some sort of threat to him.

Michelangelo turned his snout up, haughtily. "Well excuse me for trying to bring a little refinement to the table! There's Froot Loops in the cupboard. Want me to spread some out on the floor for you?"

Raphael dropped the food and watched with satisfaction as it splattered. "Where are you even finding the ingredients for this stuff? We haven't left the lair in days."

Michelangelo stubbornly crossed his arms. "I have my sources."

"Where were you hiding a cantaloupe?" Raphael scowled.

"Never you mind where I hide my cantaloupes!"

"Alright, Alright," Leonardo cut in. "That's enough interrogating Mikey, Raph. Time for me to interrogate you. Who was that on the phone?"

"Casey," was Raphael's blunt reply.

Leonardo brought a hand to his forehead. "We said no calling anyone until Donnie was ready!"

"He called me! He hadn't heard from any of us in days, and he got worried. Donnie's name was never mentioned."

Donatello had wandered over to the food and begun digging in. A couple of days on the fatten-Donnie-up plan and his body had finally gotten the memo that it could now expect to be fed at regular intervals. He was voracious, and as far as he was concerned, Mikey's fancy brunch food was just what the doctor ordered.

Maybe it was the promise of a good meal, maybe it was the comfortable banter, but Donnie was feeling really happy and relaxed. "Who said I'm not ready?" he mused, after swallowing a mouthful of melon.

"Ready for what?" Leonardo asked as he turned from Raph to Donnie. "Ready to talk to April and Casey?"

Donnie shrugged and picked up some eggs. "Sure. Why not? It's been a few days now. They're family too, after all."

Michelangelo let out one of his trademark girlish screams, causing Donnie to jump and drop his food. He'd almost forgotten how shrill Mikey could be. "Oh! We should invite them over for brunch and then have you jump out and surprise them! Can you imagine?! Everyone stop eating!"

"No way I'm doing that, Mikey," Donnie said. He then grabbed another tasty morsel and wolfed it down before it could get away.

"No way you're doing what?" Raphael inquired, "Putting down the food, or surprising the Joneses?"

"Both." Donnie smiled as he defiantly continued eating. "This is fantastic, by the way. Is the hollandaise sauce homemade?"

"Yes. It's about time someone appreciated my culinary genius," Michelangelo exclaimed as he waved a spatula in triumph.

"I absolutely do. Not so sure about your party planning skills though. I've never been a jump out and surprise them type, especially not now," Donnie explained.

"How do you want to tell people, then?" Leo asked.

"I guess I'd want to call them first, so they're prepared," Donnie answered. "You know, for everything." With that, he indicated his battered body.

"How about one of us calls them and then you start making ghost sounds until they figure it out?" Mikey suggested.

Raphael dutifully smacked Mikey on the back of his head.

"I'd be fine with one of you calling them. I'm not making ghost noises though," Donnie insisted.

"Well, I just hung up the phone," Raphael said. "It would be kind of weird if I just called back and said, 'by the way, Donnie's alive,' wouldn't it?"

"I'll call! I'll call!" Michelangelo spouted, jumping up and down and raising his hand like an excited kindergartener.

"Simmer down. We don't have to do this right now," Leo pointed out.

"I'm not going to lose my nerve, if that's what you're so worked up about," Donnie said. "We can just eat breakfast and call them later."

"Can I call?" Leonardo requested. Usually he was above these things, so Donnie wasn't about to turn him down.

"Sure," Donnie granted. "It would be a little weird if I called them myself and announced that I was back from the dead, right?"

"Hey! Why can't I call? I made you this great breakfast!" Michelangelo pouted.

"I'll let you hit the buttons on the phone. How about that?" Leonardo teased.

"Speakerphone," Raphael suggested. "This is a stupid thing to be fighting about."

That afternoon, everyone huddled around Leonardo's phone, bubbling with anticipation. Donnie was feeling a bit nervous, but he was doing his best to cover it up. He imagined that this is what stage fright must feel like. It was April who picked up the phone.

"Hey, Leo, What's up?" April greeted him. Hearing her voice again sent a few butterflies fluttering in Donnie's stomach.

"It's not just me. It's all of us, actually," Leo hinted, with a knowing smile in Donnie's direction. At that, Donnie felt the now familiar sting of tears coming to his eyes.

"All of you?" April repeated. "What's going on? You guys have been so mysterious these past few days."

"Is Casey there?" Raphael asked. "Put the phone on speaker."

"What's up?" came Casey's voice. "And, it had better be good." Casey's thick but familiar accent brought a smile to Donnie's face.

"It is," Mikey spouted. "It's the best!"

"Donatello is alive," Splinter declared. Everyone had been squabbling about who would do the honors of announcing the news, but no one had been expecting Splinter to be the one to speak. Apparently, he wasn't above childish excitement, even at his age.

There was a thumping sound, followed by a brief silence, then April and Casey began talking over each other. "Sorry, what?" Casey blurted.

"I dropped the phone," April explained. "Did you say that Donnie is alive? Where? How?"

"I'm right here," Donnie confirmed. "And as to how- well, I just kept on living!"

April let out a scream that made Michelangelo proud, and Casey roared "What! I can't believe it! Is that really you, Donnie? You guys had better not be pranking us!"

"Why would we prank you?" Mikey asked. "Even I'm above joking about something like this."

"Yeah, it's really me," Donnie chuckled.

"Prove it," Casey bellowed. "Say something Donnie-ish."

"Uh, the Einstein tensor is also known as the trace-reversed Ricci tensor."

"Is that right, April?" Casey asked.

"I think so," she quietly replied, her voice choked with emotion and wonder.

"Eh, we're not convinced. Say something else," Casey demanded.

"Hypereutectic pistons have a lower coefficient of thermal expansion than common cast aluminum pistons," Donnie supplied.

"Still not convinced," Casey teased.

"A bo-staff is much more than just a stick."

"Sold!" Casey roared. "Donnie, how the hell are you?!"

"Well, I'm great," Donnie answered truthfully, his voice thick. "Never better."

"Donnie, we've got to see you! When can we come over?" April cried.

"See me?" Donnie said, a little hesitantly. He may be feeling great, but he knew he wasn't looking great.

"How about dinner tonight?" Michelangelo suggested, completely oblivious to Donnie's trepidation.

"Sure, we can do that!" Casey agreed. "Want us to bring pizza?"

Michelangelo frowned. "We just had pizza. How about Chinese?"

"Slow down a minute," Raphael ordered. He quickly put a finger over the microphone. "Donnie, are you okay with that?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Donnie nodded, looking none too sure. "Can you guys just give me a minute to talk to them alone, though?"

"Of course, come along my sons," Splinter commanded, as he shepherded the others away.

"Hey," Donnie said. "Sorry about that. It's just me now."

"Donnie, if it's too soon, we understand," April said "I mean, we want to see you. My God, we want to see you, but-"

Donnie cut her off. "No. No. It's not that I don't want to see you. I've been home a few days now and I'm missing you guys. It's just that I want you to be prepared. I don't look the same."

"Who cares what you look like?" Casey said. "It's not like any of you guys were ever gonna win a beauty contest."

"That's true," Donnie conceded. "I just don't want you to be surprised. The past few years weren't kind to me. I'm not the same, you know?"

"Donnie, we don't care. We just want to see you. I can't believe I'm talking to you right now. Oh, I've missed you so much. I love you, Donnie." The sounds of April crying could be heard as soon as she finished her sentence.

Donnie had never told a human that he loved them out loud, nor had he ever heard it from one. He supposed they were just surprised and overcome with emotion. But he knew how he felt, and he knew better than to hide it. If there's one thing that he had learned, it's that life is too short to keep the good stuff locked away. "I love you guys too. We'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Bet on it," Casey promised. "Welcome back, Donnie."

* * *

 **This story has now passed the 10,000 view milestone, and I want to thank all of you who are out there reading along. While writing is its own reward, it's been nice to see the numbers continue to climb. I hope that you are enjoying reading this half as much as I have enjoyed writing it.**


	31. Chapter 31

April sloshed through the sewers on autopilot while her brain attempted to make sense of this afternoon's developments. She'd thought of Donatello so often through the years, but she hadn't seen this coming. Even as she watched his family struggle to accept his purported death, she'd never questioned its finality. She'd missed her best friend desperately and mourned him deeply. That hole in her heart had never been filled, and a part of her wouldn't believe he was really alive until she saw him with her own eyes.

Leonardo had called again later, to warn her and Casey about what to expect. He explained that Donnie was half dead when he arrived, but that he was perking up nicely and seemed to be out of the woods. Leo described Donnie's various physical problems so that nothing would come as a surprise, and he also gave them a heads-up that Donnie had been hesitant to talk about the past four years. Leo warned that Donnie was easily startled, but he hadn't mentioned any major personality changes. Nevertheless, April found it hard to believe that Donatello could still be the same sweet, kind-hearted turtle after everything he'd been through.

April's feet stopped moving of their own volition, and she looked up to realize that she was standing at the door to the lair. Casey chuckled as he brushed by her and opened it. He marched straight to the kitchen and began dutifully unloading the food, knowing that his wife had first dibs on the reunion. As predicted, April wasted no time in seeking Donnie out and plastering his cheeks and forehead with butterfly kisses. "And here I was thinking that you'd be afraid to come near me!" Donnie laughed, as he held onto April.

"Are you kidding me, Don?" April said between kisses. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Casey pretended not to be just the slightest bit jealous. April had always connected to Donnie in a way that Casey never could. Everyone knew that there was nothing between April and the turtle but friendship and camaraderie. Still, when had she last greeted him like that?

"So, where ya been, Donnie?" Casey called when April came up for air. As usual, Casey exercised no discretion whatsoever. Leonardo almost scolded the vigilante, but he was too wrapped up in waiting to hear if Donnie would answer to bother speaking up.

Everyone turned to Donatello, and he withered under their stares. "Nowhere pleasant," he replied. "I'm really not ready to talk about it, if you don't mind." His brothers found the answer disappointing, even though it was entirely expected.

April took a seat next to Donatello and pet his shoulder. "Why would we mind? You'll tell us when you're ready. For now, you probably just want to enjoy being home, right?"

"I do," Donnie confirmed.

The ligature marks on Donatello's arms and legs were obvious, as was his near-starving state. It was plain to see that he had been held against his will. April and Casey tried to pretend they didn't notice, but it was difficult to figure out where to look and what to say next. As a result, the silence stretched awkwardly.

Donatello realized that he would need to speak first. "So, tell me how you guys have been. What have I missed these past few years?"

"Wow, where to begin?" Casey wondered aloud. "I mean, it's been a long time."

"I managed to drag Casey to Paris for our five-year wedding anniversary," April said. "That was a pretty big accomplishment."

"Yeah, me and France don't exactly get along. Bunch of fancy pants if you ask me," Casey scoffed.

"We had a wonderful time," April said, leadingly, a hint of irritation in her voice.

Casey picked up on her tone. "Oh yeah. We did. Some of those paintings at the Lube-"

"It's pronounced Louvre," April corrected.

"Strolling the Cramps Aribe in the moonlight," Casey continued, the corner of his mouth mischievously lifting a bit.

"Champs Elysees," April emphasized.

"Sharing a bottle of wine under the Rifle Tower."

April turned red and threw up her hands. "Oh, come on!"

Raphael snickered. "You do know he's doing it on purpose, right Ape?"

"Yes, and that makes it worse," April huffed. "Oh, and what he leaves out is that we spent the day of our Anniversary itself at a Giants match."

"It's a game, not a match!" Casey howled.

April laughed devilishly, clearly having done it on purpose.

"Well played, April. It's good to see that you guys haven't changed," Donatello observed.

"Nope. They're still comically mismatched and loving every minute of it," Michelangelo agreed.

"Bout that," Casey began, "I gotta admit I was always just a little jealous that you and April had so much in common that I didn't. But now, I'm just really happy that you're home so that she doesn't have to chew my ear off about that boring stuff anymore." Casey teased, but he also pulled Donnie into a bone crunching hug.

"Happy to be of service, buddy," Donnie squeaked.

"I really did miss you, pal," Casey admitted, somewhat apologetically.

"Me too. So, what else is new?"

Casey shrugged. "A lot is new. It's been four years."

"The shop is doing well," April said. "And, I've been getting back to scientific work. Trying to use my old Stockman connections to pull in some consulting gigs."

"Yeah. April's been doing so good that we were able to save up some seed money for me to open my own garage. Been in business about a year now, and it's going alright," Casey announced.

Donnie smiled. "That's great, guys. Sounds like you've been busy."

"Absolutely," April agreed. "That reminds me, I have something for you." With that, April reached into her purse and pulled out a plastic shopping bag, which she handed to Donatello.

He opened it and pulled out a clearly broken cellular phone. "Thanks, I guess?" Prior to his kidnapping, Donnie would have been thrilled to receive such a gift. But while he knew from his time on the run that his engineering skills remained, the motivation to build hadn't returned to him yet. All he'd cared about these past few days was eating, sleeping, and basking in the love of his family. "Did you want me to fix these?" Donnie asked, baffled by the nature of the gift.

"No!" April exclaimed. "Oh, goodness, no! Those are all the cell phones that your brothers broke while you were away. I figured they'd be good for a laugh, and maybe some parts."

"Ohhhh," Donnie mouthed, as he began digging through the bag. He eagerly pulled out a barely connected mess of wires and broken plastic bits. "What happened to this one?"

"Crushed it with my bare hands," Raphael confessed. It was unclear whether he was proud, ashamed, or a mix of both. "Lost its signal at an inopportune time," Raphael further explained.

"It's clearly garbage," Donnie pondered. "Why give it back to April?"

"He thought that I might be able to fix it," April said with an eyeroll. "Fortunately, I had a warranty. The store said that I could just keep the scraps."

"That was nice of them," Donnie complimented. "So, is this bag your way of telling me that my brothers kept you busy too?"

"Ah, you know how they can be," April smiled. "I did my best to work with your tech, but some of my efforts were more successful than others."

Donnie was visibly contrite and sank down lower into his seat. "Sorry. I tried to write as many manuals and instructions as possible, but there was never enough time to get everything done."

April put a hand on his arm, displeased at the reaction that she had provoked. "Hey, do not apologize. No one could have expected you to document everything. All I meant was that I gained a newfound respect for all that you were able to accomplish, particularly given your limited training and resources."

"Oh," Donnie said awkwardly. "Um, thanks." Donnie couldn't think of anything else to say and began bashfully picking at his leg brace.

The silence lasted too long. "So, we had a baby," Casey suddenly blurted.

April reddened a little. "We weren't sure if we should tell you yet. We figured today should be about you."

Donnie waved her off, just happy that there was something else to talk about. "Nonsense. I want to hear all about it. Tell me everything."

"Well for starters, it's a "she" not an "it,"" Casey teased. "Her name is Gabrielle, and she just turned two."

"Do you have pictures? You must have pictures!" Donnie prodded.

April unlocked her phone and began thumbing through photos, describing birthdays, milestones and personality traits. Donnie hovered over her shoulder talking about how cute and smart she was, then making simple noises of approval before eventually growing completely quiet. April looked up from her phone to notice that everyone was staring. She turned to look at Donnie and caught him wiping away a tear. April snapped the phone shut. "I'm so sorry! I knew this was a mistake!"

"No, no," Donnie cried. "It's not like I expected the world to stop turning while I was gone. It's… it's good to know that you guys have been happy and that good things have been happening. She's perfect, April." Donnie continued to paw at his face.

April teared up a little herself. "We missed you terribly, you know. In fact, her middle name is Dawn, in honor of you."

"Does she… Does she know about us?" Donnie looked up at his brothers. "Has she met you guys?"

"Well, yeah," Raphael answered. "We've all met her. It seemed best to get her used to us right away, before she realized how odd we are."

"Sure," Donnie said quietly. He was obviously still upset, for reasons the others in the room could only guess at.

"We don't take her to the sewer," April explained. "Can you imagine if somebody saw us? So, when you're ready to meet her you'll have to come to our apartment." April hoped that the invitation would undo whatever damage she had inadvertently caused.

Donnie nodded. Much to April's dismay, his only verbal reply was a "Hmmm."

"Hey, so dinner is probably getting cold," Michelangelo prodded, just wanting the awkwardness to end.

April and Casey stayed through dinner, and then went back to their apartment. While Donnie had seemed happy to see them, it was obvious that he wasn't up for a prolonged visit, and the conversation was forced and stilted. In keeping with the age-old tradition of parents everywhere, they used the babysitter excuse to make a graceful exit.

Donatello had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen by himself. No one wanted him to, but he persisted, claiming that he needed to start pitching in. Splinter sensed that there was more to it and ushered everyone but Donnie out of the room. Raphael and Michelangelo used the opportunity to play a video game. Leonardo requested some time alone with his father, and now the two were sitting knee to knee in the dojo.

"What troubles you, my son?" Splinter asked.

"It's Donnie," Leo answered. "Do you think that he's okay?"

"No, I do not," Splinter replied without hesitation.

Leo hadn't expected Splinter to be so blunt. His eyes widened in shock. Splinter's demeanor softened before he continued. "But, I do believe that he is worlds better than he was last week at this time, don't you?"

"Of course," Leo sputtered. "It's just that he still doesn't want to talk about anything. I can understand why, but it makes it hard to figure out how to help him. He seemed so upset tonight. Can I just go to him and ask why, or is that pushing him too hard?"

Splinter raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking my permission?"

Leonardo didn't even know the answer to that question and took a moment to formulate his response. "You've had more alone time with him than anyone. Has he at least been talking to you?"

Splinter shook his head. "Not really. Not yet anyway. We have mostly been sitting together and growing re-accustomed to each other's company. He did tell me that he feared we were dead. Otherwise, he has not offered me much insight into the past four years."

"So, what do we do?" a flustered Leonardo asked.

"Let him lead the way. He will talk when he is ready," came Splinter's patient answer.

"But this is Donnie," Leo protested. "He always hid from his feelings before all of this. If we don't do something now, won't it only get worse?"

"Donatello and I will be taking tea together in the mornings. I will try to guide him, at his own pace. He will not be allowed to sweep his problems under the rug and ignore them," Splinter promised.

While hearing this was a huge relief, Leonardo wasn't the type of turtle who liked to sit around on the sidelines and wait for his turn to come up. "So, what do _I_ do, then?" he asked.

Splinter sighed. "What you said about Donatello hiding from his feelings is in some ways true, but there is more to it than that. All of you boys process your problems differently. You like to quietly talk them out, like we are doing right now. Michelangelo seeks sympathy, complaining loudly when necessary. Raphael bottles up his emotions until they come out as anger, but he will talk once that anger has run its course. Donatello processes his emotions through his work. When he is stressed, he looks for a task to distract himself. But, his mind is always working through the problem in the background. If you force him to confront his feelings, he will not do well. But, if you give him a task, he will begin to sort through them on his own."

"Is that why you let him do the dishes?"

"Indeed. If you go to him now, you may find him more amenable to conversation. If not, do not push. He will speak in his own time."

Leonardo rose and bowed, impressed as always by his father's wisdom and insight. "Thank you, Sensei."

Leo left the dojo and found that Donnie was still washing the last dish, which was already sparkling clean. Donnie was staring mindlessly at the wall above the sink as he did so. In a normal kitchen, a window might've been there. All Donatello had to look at were bricks, but he seemed to be mesmerized by them. Leonardo cleared his throat, and Donatello jumped. "Leo! I didn't see you there! I'm almost finished."

Leonardo had taken his father's advice to heart and decided to offer Donnie a distraction rather than forcing him to talk. "We never did get to that chess game. Want to play?"

"Oh, okay," Donnie said, putting the dish into the drying rack and pushing off the sink.

Leo's blood ran cold as Donnie almost lost his balance. He grabbed his brother's elbow to steady him. "Easy there. Are you okay?"

Donnie flushed with embarrassment, a look that was becoming all too familiar. "Yeah. My leg just went a little numb. Must've been standing for too long."

Leo helped his brother to the table, and then retrieved the chess set. Donnie was staring off into space again when Leo returned to the kitchen. Leo set up the chess board, which was one of the few nice things he owned. It was a gift from April, a replacement for the mismatched and partially handmade set that he had pieced together through the years. "You can make the first move, if you like," Leo offered.

Donnie picked up a piece and turned it between his fingers, looking lost. Leo just sat and watched him, wondering if he had forgotten the rules, or if he was simply distracted. After a minute or so had elapsed, Donnie finally placed the piece on the board, seemingly at random. "Well, I really muffed things up, didn't I?" Donnie lamented.

Leo smiled. "It was only your first move. You can have a do-over."

Donnie's eyes darted from the board up to Leo's. "No. I meant with April and Casey. Do you think they're mad?"

"Mad?" Leo repeated. "Why would they be mad?"

"Um, I _cried_ in front of them," Donnie cringed. He then shook his head and lowered it into his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "What a disaster."

"Hey," Leo comforted. "Why would they be mad just because you cried? It's not like you said Gabe was ugly or something."

Donnie chuckled a little, as Leo hoped that he would. "Gabe - Is that what they call her?" he whispered into his hands.

"Usually," Leo confirmed. He moved to the seat next to Donnie and put an arm around his brother's shoulders. "You know that you don't have anything to be ashamed of, right Donnie? You've got to know that we aren't expecting you to just be okay, after everything that's happened, right?"

Donnie only groaned in reply, and Leo just sat there with his arm around him until Donnie was ready to talk. "Why did I have to get all weird on top of everything else?" Donnie moaned. "It's not enough to look terrible and to cry like a baby in front of everyone? I have to forget how to hold a conversation as well?"

"Come on. You know that's not what happened," Leo pointed out.

"What did happen then? Because I don't think that it went all that well, but maybe I'm just so messed up that I can't tell anymore," Donnie shot back.

"You're getting used to being around people again. And honestly, we might have rushed into this a little too quickly. You did fine, though. I promise," Leo soothed as he rubbed Donnie's shell.

Donnie sighed and lifted his head out of his hands. He affectionately bumped his shoulder into Leo's. "Thanks. I suppose I'll have to take your word on that. Not like I can go back and change it anyway."

"That's the problem with the past," Leo pondered. "You can't change it, no matter how badly you want to."

Donnie let out a long, shaky breath and began randomly tipping over game pieces. Some he left down, some he placed upright again. Leo just watched, and the two simply sat together for a while.

"Do you want to talk about what got you so upset?" Leo eventually asked.

Donnie knocked the white queen onto her side. "The baby… wasn't a baby."

The answer was rather cryptic, but Leo nodded in encouragement and waited for Donnie to continue, trusting that he would when he was ready.

Donnie finally managed to put his thoughts together. "I sort of assumed that April and Casey would've had a kid, or even two. I knew that they wanted children. And, I was happy when Casey said they had a baby. I really was. And, I was happy to see the pictures."

Donnie took a long pause before continuing. "But then, the pictures kept on coming. And then it dawned on me. She's not a baby. She's two. In my head, there was a baby, but in reality…. I was gone for so long, Leo. You know how they say a picture is worth a thousand words?... I guess that was sort of like seeing the length of my captivity in picture form. I mean, I know how long I was gone, and I can see that you guys have gotten taller, and that Splinter has aged, but this was like seeing a whole life I've missed out on, and watching it grow. This child, who was only a baby in my head, has had a first, birthday… a second birthday. There's this walking, talking life out there, that I've never known. And I can't ever go back and meet that baby. She's gone now. I can't ever go back, Leo."

Donnie turned his head and buried it in Leo's shoulder, his body wracked with sobs. Leo knew that Donatello had been speaking about his own life, just as much as Gabrielle's. He also knew, instinctively, that they were done talking for the night.

When Donnie was ready, the two returned to chess. In the end, Leo easily won the game. But, that triumph meant nothing to him when compared to the larger victory that he had claimed that night. Difficult though it had been, he had helped his brother to feel what he needed to feel and say what he needed to say. It was a start.

* * *

 **I must confess that I really struggled with what to name the baby. I know that in some versions of TMNT, Casey has a daughter named Shadow, and that a lot of writers use that name. For whatever reason, I just couldn't see April naming her kid that. Since Shadow's birth mother in the comics is named Gabrielle, I figured this was a good compromise. I don't know why I got so hung up on this, because it's not particularly important or relevant. Oh well. Thanks for reading.**


	32. Chapter 32

The door slid open, and Donatello hobbled into the garage, moving at a clip that Raphael didn't know his wounded brother was capable of. Even half a room away, the look of desperation on Donatello's face was obvious. "Raph, you've got to hide me," Donnie pleaded.

In one swift movement, Raphael dropped his wrench and grabbed his sais. He sprang up, immediately taking a defensive position between Donatello and the door. Raph had no idea what was going on, but he was prepared for anything. He didn't care if a hell beast was about to bear down on him, there was no way that any harm was coming to Donatello. "What?! What's wrong?" Raphael roared.

"It's Michelangelo," Donatello explained, casting his eyes around in search of a good hiding spot. The only passenger vehicle was a battered SUV. He began limping towards it, while elaborating on his predicament. "He's threatening to force-feed me. I can't take it anymore, Raph!"

Raphael breathed a sigh of relief and returned his sais to their spot of honor in his belt. He gave Donnie a hand climbing into the back seat. As weird as his entrance had been, Raphael was happy to see his brother back in the garage. Up until now, Donatello's range had consisted of only the living room, the bathroom, the kitchen and the dojo.

Donatello sank down into the cushion with a pained grimace and put a hand over his stomach. "I just ate an entire pizza at dinner. He can't honestly expect me to finish another one two hours later. I know you guys don't like seeing me this scrawny but putting on weight after a period of starvation should be a marathon, not a sprint."

Raphael was about to respond that no one cared how skinny Donnie was, as long as he was there with them. But before Raph could open his mouth, Michelangelo burst into the garage, displaying his characteristic energy. "Did Donnie come this way?" Mikey asked frantically. "I turned my back for a minute and then he was gone. He's still got two whole slices of pizza left." Donatello visibly paled and sank even lower.

Raphael stepped away from the SUV, choosing an angle where he knew Donnie wouldn't be able to see him. He caught Michelangelo's eye, placed a finger over his lips, and nodded towards the SUV's passenger compartment. Donatello may have thought that hiding would be a good idea, but he underestimated just how much everyone feared that he might disappear again. Raphael didn't want Michelangelo to worry unnecessarily.

"Haven't seen him," Raph said gruffly, subtly pointing to Donnie's hiding place. "But, I think that 14 slices of veggie-lovers in the past two hours is enough. Cut the guy a break, okay?"

Michelangelo hesitated for a moment. In a misguided attempt at appearing imposing, he glared at Raph and took a step forward. Raphael kept his eyes locked firmly on Mikey and moved his finger from his lips to the handle of his sai. Michelangelo threw his hands up in surrender and began his retreat. "Fine. The dojo door is closed. Maybe he's talking to Splinter." Mikey paused before leaving and took on a gentler tone, speaking directly to the spot where knew Donnie was hidden. "But, if you see him, you can let him know he's off the hook."

"Okay, Mikey," Raph said as he pounded the SUV's side panel. "Gotta get back to flushing the coolant now."

Donatello heard the garage door close and poked his head up like a gopher. "Thanks, Raph," he winced. "I knew that I could count on you. Say, do we still keep a first aid kit around here? I could really use some antacid."

Raphael fetched the desired medicine. "You could've just told him to lay off, you know. I'm sure he wouldn't really force feed you."

"I know," Donnie said as he popped a couple of tablets into his mouth. "But, feeding people has always made Mikey happy. I couldn't bear to tell him no."

Raphael chuckled. "So, you decided to just sneak off instead? How is that better?"

Donatello returned the smile. "I guess that I wanted to see if I could. My ninja skills are rusty. Truth be told, I didn't know if I still had it in me."

Raphael climbed into the backseat and sat next to his brother, pleased that he apparently still had a bit of spunk left in him. "We'll always be ninjas, Don. It's not the type of thing that goes away."

"Hmm, not so sure about that," Donnie said as he rested both hands on his midsection. "But anyway, what's up with this car? Are you helping Casey out with repairs?"

"Oh, uh, this is our car," Raphael explained.

Donatello blinked owlishly and took a closer look at his battered beige surroundings. It was quite the style downgrade, but he didn't dare mention that. "Well it's certainly… practical. Must blend right in."

"Now, now, I know what you're thinking, but believe me, we souped this bad boy up. Just… not in the way you would've. The weapons and fancy add-ons were out of our league, but she's not lacking anything beneath the hood."

"I suppose that some of our previous vehicles were rather...garish, particularly considering that we were supposed to be doing our best to blend in," Donnie admitted.

Raphael shook his head. "It wasn't only that. I just couldn't maintain all that tech. The lair's security system alone was a full-time job."

"Hmmm," Donnie hummed. "I guess that explains why the perimeter cameras were in such disrepair. You know, that had me pretty worried when I was on my way home."

"Yeah," Raph started, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "Leo and I kept butting heads about some of that stuff. In the end… well, I had to put my foot down."

Donnie thought about the damaged camera that he found in the tunnel. In retrospect, it looked like the lens was skewered by a sai. "You purposefully wrecked it, didn't you?" Donnie surmised.

Raph cast Donnie a sidelong glance, to gauge his brother's mood. Donnie was poker-faced. A simple "guilty as charged," was the best Raph could do.

For a moment, Raphael worried that Donatello would be angry, but then he heard a soft chuckle. "I suppose that breaking the system was the most effective way to get the last word against Leo."

Raphael clapped a hand across Donnie's shoulder. "Leo was more than welcome to fix it if he wanted to. I gave him the part number and everything. Somehow, it became less of a priority when it was him that had to do the work."

Donatello looked at his brother plaintively. "Now that it's me asking, would you fix it? I think that I'd feel better knowing that the alarms were online."

Raphael made a low noise in his throat, but he couldn't say no to Donnie. "Anything for you, Brainiac. But you should know that it's more than just some bad cameras. The wiring-"

"I know, I know," Donnie interrupted. "Rats chew on the wiring. Flooding and moisture fries the electronics. It's a never-ending battle. But still, after everything that I've been through, the more protection I have, the better."

"As far as I'm concerned, the only protection you need is right here," Raphael boasted, jabbing himself in the plastron with one strong thumb. Even his finger muscles were bigger, Donnie observed. Quite the accomplishment. "There's no way that we're anything happen to you now that we've got you back."

"I know," Donnie said. "But no one can be 100% vigilant all the time. It's just not feasible."

"Trust me, bro. It's going to be a long, long time before anyone around here lets their guards down," Raphael placated. A troubling thought then occurred to him. "Do we have reason to be worried? Are you afraid you were followed here?"

"No. I'm confident that no one tracked me here, and I'm not saying that it needs to be done right away," Donnie conceded. "Honestly, I can make the repairs myself once I'm feeling up to leaving the lair. I'll still need someone to watch my back, though."

"And who better than me?" Raph smiled, relieved that there was apparently no imminent danger. "I'll do whatever you want. Anyway, the issue wasn't the security system, so much as Leo. You know how he can be."

"What? You and Leo were butting heads? How unexpected," Donnie answered sardonically.

Raphael was soothed to hear a bit of the old Donnie poking through again. It seemed like a sign that Donnie was finally beginning to relax. Raphael felt like maybe it would be okay to open up a little himself. "Well, the stress of a missing brother alone was enough to set everyone on edge. Compensate for the fact that no one had any idea how to do a fraction of the stuff you used to do, add on all your regular chores and being a man down in battle. Needless to say, we were all at our whit's end. Account for festering bad feelings, lack of an appropriate sounding board and concerns about safety. The mixture was pretty combustible at times."

"I'll bet," Donnie said, maneuvering himself so that he and Raph were sitting hip to hip. "Sorry about all that."

Raphael moved the hand that had been clasping Donnie's shoulder to the back of the seat. "You got nothing to be sorry for, and we all wish that you'd quit apologizing for things that aren't your fault. We just missed you Donnie, and I especially missed talking to you like this."

"I missed you too, Raphie," Donnie sighed as he closed his eyes and wriggled into the space that Raph's arm had vacated.

* * *

Leonardo didn't know why the lair was so quiet, but he was certainly thankful for it. He felt guilty about hiding away in his room like this, but he needed a little time alone. There had been nonstop togetherness since Donatello had come home. It was great, but it didn't allow for any privacy, and there was an urgent project that needed tending to - a project that only Leo was ready to tackle.

Donatello had escaped from a material testing facility on Long Island. That was about all that anyone really knew so far, but it was important information. Leonardo used his phone to pull up an article about the explosion that Donatello had triggered. He read it in depth, and then pulled up another, and another. There was no mention of the FBI whatsoever, which gave weight to Donnie's theory that they had never actually been involved in liberating him from his original prison. If so, this facility was likely connected to the person, or people, who had kidnapped Donatello. Leo put down his phone and pulled out a large aerial photo of the city that April had printed for him. He circled the building with red marker.

The photo already contained numerous red dots. These were the locations were Leonardo and his brothers had encountered the men in black sedans over the years. Those encounters had gradually grown less frequent after Karai and the turtles turned the tables on their attackers, but they had never stopped entirely. Leonardo still suspected that there was a connection between them, and whatever had happened to Donatello. The material testing facility was not in an area that had a lot of dots, but the turtles also didn't spend as much time on Long Island as they did in Manhattan and the Bronx.

Leonardo had asked April to help him research the testing facility, but she hadn't had the time to get started yet. While Leonardo was not as skilled a researcher as April, he was able to obtain some basic information. The facility was owned by Auman Chemicals and had been purchased by them back in the 1980s. Auman was a large, multinational corporation, with holdings all over the world. As far as Leo know, Auman had no knowledge of the turtle's existence, and wouldn't have had any reason to be interested in them.

Leonardo opened his black three-ring binder. He had used it to jot down notes and theories about Donnie's disappearance over the years. The first page had been updated religiously. It was a simple list of leads that Leo had not yet eliminated, the hints that he considered most promising. Leo kept them together, in the hopes that someday everything would gel and make sense. The list read as follows:

\- Shell cell network hack

\- Arms transfer

\- Chemical explosion

\- Peterman Transit

\- Spiritual block

\- Black sedans

\- Former Foot

Leonardo added an additional item to the list:

\- Auman Chemical, Long Island

He could ask Donnie who had kidnapped him. Heck, maybe he should ask Donnie that. Maybe Donnie would say "Bishop had me," and they could just be done with this whole thing. But, Donnie clearly wasn't ready to talk yet, and Leo was pretty sure that it wasn't going to be a simple answer when it came. Donatello had offered very few details, and he didn't even seem particularly confident about the FBI connection, or lack thereof. Even if Donnie didn't want to discuss details, if the story of his kidnapping had been as simple as "so and so took me," he likely would have mentioned it by now. So, Leo updated his notebook for the first time since Donnie came home, in an attempt to organize his thoughts.

Two things popped out at him. First of all, that spiritual block note became all the more important now that he knew that Donnie was alive. Surely Donnie would have reached out to them over the past four years. Therefore, there likely really was some sort of block. Secondly, although the list was short, the word "chemical" was on there twice - 'chemical explosion' and 'Auman Chemical.' Leo wondered if there was a connection between the two. Either way, a thorough investigation into Auman Chemical would be needed.

But that could wait until April found the time to get to it. Right now, Donnie still needed them too much and he obviously wasn't ready to face what had happened to him. Still, the time would come to pursue this, and when it came, Leo would be ready.

* * *

That night had marked the end of Donatello's first week at home. Donnie was feeling a lot better, but he hadn't yet gained the courage to venture into his bedroom. While he had noticed that the lab was locked, he hadn't asked about it. Nobody had dared to let him out of their sight yet, and he was afraid that he was growing dependent upon having company around.

The thought of being alone was unsettling. Everyone seemed to understand, and by unspoken agreement, at least one brother had slept in the living room with him each night. He appreciated this, as nightmares had begun waking him again. Much to Donnie's relief, no one had noticed yet. Every time he was shocked awake, he opened his eyes to one or more blissfully sleeping brothers. Having them there was a comfort, even more so because he hadn't been forced to discuss his unsettling visions.

The weeklong slumber party was beginning to feel rather pathetic, though. At some point, he would have to grab the bull by the horns and start working on becoming independent. It seemed like the one-week milestone was a good time to start and sleeping alone seemed like a solid first step. He didn't want to be holed up in his bedroom. Just thinking about that made him claustrophobic. He decided the sofa was best. Since he'd spent 90% of the last week on it, it had become something of a refuge. It may be lumpy and a bit smelly, but it felt so safe and familiar.

It took some convincing, but eventually his brothers retired to their own rooms, and left Donnie alone. It felt so strange to be out here by himself, but he knew that it was ultimately good for him. He'd always been independent, and he didn't want to be as clingy as he had been over this past week. Donnie knew that he could still be alone. He was alone the entire time that he was on the run. Really, he was alone the entire time that he was imprisoned. Even though he had company, he was more alone then than he had ever been. So why was it so hard to be by himself now?

Donnie stayed on the sofa all night. It was torture, but he did it. He kept the TV on for company, with the volume low enough that he could hear the sounds of his family as they slept. He mummified himself with a blanket, keeping the back of his neck covered to alleviate the feeling of being watched. He didn't sleep a wink, but he made it through on his own until sunrise.

Leo woke up first, and found a baggy eyed Donatello sitting zombie-like on the sofa. "You did it!" Leo congratulated. "Did you manage to get any sleep?"

Donnie smiled. "No, but at least I survived. Would you come sit with me for a bit?"

"Yeah," Leo replied softly. Truthfully, Leo hadn't slept that much himself, knowing that his brother was by himself out here. He sat next to Donnie and placed a pillow on his lap before gently guiding him down. "Try to get a little rest now, okay?"

"Thanks, Leo," Donnie replied tiredly. He let out a big yawn, arranged the blankets and closed his eyes.

Leo thought that Donnie had drifted off, but then he heard a whisper. "I don't want to be this guy, you know?"

Leo nodded, even though he knew Donnie couldn't see him. "I know. I never wanted to be the guy who lost a brother."

Donnie reached up and clasped Leo's knee. "You're not anymore."

Leo returned the affectionate gesture with a reassuring shoulder squeeze. "And you won't be this guy forever, either. I promise. You've just got to allow yourself time to heal."

Donnie hummed in agreement before nodding off.

Leo stayed with Donnie for an hour, but when the rest of the house began waking, he realized that he should begin his day in earnest. If he didn't, he was going to fall asleep here too, and lately he had been lazy enough. Leo carefully slipped out from beneath his brother, leaving Donnie's head resting on the pillow. When Leo went to arrange the blankets, he couldn't help but pause to stare at the heavily damaged shell. Donnie did his best to keep it out of plain sight around them. Leo had washed it on the first day, but everything was so surreal about that experience that he didn't really remember taking a close look at it.

There was a massive wound in the middle of Donnie's back that clearly hadn't healed properly. Jagged edges surrounded the large divot, with certain shell fragments overlapping others, and other portions partially grown together. Healed fissures surrounded the main wound, the worst of which ran up past Donnie's right shoulder, where a second, smaller divot marred his shell. While the smaller divot had healed better than the first, it looked like a large segment of the shell had grown beneath the other. Leo didn't know how Donnie had managed to survive this level of damage. It was horrific.

"It was a studded mace," Donnie said.

Leo was startled, not having realized that his brother had woken up. "What?"

"My back. They hit me with a studded mace. Then when the original wound was almost healed, someone stomped on one of the larger cracks near my shoulder and caused the other collapse."

Leo was horrified. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you, I thought you were asleep."

"I could feel you looking at me," Donnie said as he began sitting up. "It's a new superpower that I've developed."

Leo put a gentle hand on his brother in an attempt to keep him from rising. "I'm sorry, Don. I didn't mean to creep you out, or make you feel obligated to talk about anything before you're ready. Just try to go back to sleep."

"No, it's okay. Honestly, this part is something that we should talk about. I'm gonna need you guys to help me out with fixing it."

"You think it can be fixed?" Leo didn't mean to sound so surprised, or to dash his brother's optimism. Nevertheless, his words had that effect.

Donnie winced. "I hope so. The damage prevents me from moving properly. If I want to be of any use to this family again, we'll need to at least try to improve it."

"I can file it down," Leo offered.

"That'd be nice I suppose. It keeps catching on the blankets and sofa, and I don't want you guys cutting yourselves on the sharp parts either. Filing it wasn't what I meant, though. A lot of the damage is internal. I'm going to need surgery."

"By us?" Leo gawked.

"Who else? It's not like I have a lot of options," Donnie pointed out.

"Well, no," Leo agreed, "but, I wouldn't know where to start."

"I think we can all figure it out together," Donnie said hopefully. "It's going to be a while before I'm strong enough to endure a surgery anyway. Donnie stopped talking long enough that Leo assumed he was finished, but then Donnie yawned and added. "It's a someday thing, Leo, not a today thing or even a tomorrow thing."

"Someday," Leo repeated. Donnie was right. Someday they would fix all of this. Leo didn't have any idea how they would do it, but heaven knows they were going to try their absolute hardest. Leo looked down to see that Donatello had fallen back asleep. "I promise," he whispered.

* * *

 **Leave it to good old, reliable Leo to remember that stories are supposed to have a plot. I know we didn't see much of Mikey this chapter, but he is the hero of the next chapter, and it's one of my favorites. Thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for favoriting, following and reviewing. See you next week!**


	33. Chapter 33

Everyone was thrilled that Donatello was home. They were completely ecstatic. It was a true miracle.

But, it had been a couple of weeks now, and it was starting to get a little weird. No one wanted to bring up anything upsetting so for the most part they just ignored the past four years. Donatello didn't seem ready to return to any of his old activities, whatsoever. The bag of cell phones that April had brought over was still sitting next to the sofa, untouched since the night of her visit. Donnie hadn't asked for anything to read. He hadn't requested his old tablet or laptop. He hadn't even been asking a lot of questions. He just sort of sat there wearing a smile, but with a vacant look in his eyes, almost as though he were in a daze.

Obviously, Donatello couldn't train or patrol. No one wanted to leave him alone or make him feel left out, so it meant that everyone just kind of lounged around all day. It had been nice at first, but now it was starting to feel awkward. The turtles had never enjoyed being idle. They were always training, studying, fighting, or simply fooling around. As things stood now, they couldn't even play video games. Everyone had noticed how jumpy Donnie was around loud noises, and he didn't seem too keen on boisterous activity. Since he was permanently parked on the sofa, it seemed rude to monopolize the TV.

Thankfully, Mikey knew how to fix this situation. The ice simply needed to be broken. Fortunately, he knew just how to do it. "We're drinkingggggg!" he yelled from the kitchen door.

"You guys drink now?" Donnie said with interest.

"Raph and Mikey do," Leo said disapprovingly. "But I only drink in moderation. Alcohol muddies the mind."

Michelangelo appeared, carrying a large bowl filled with paper slips. The bowl also contained a bottle of tequila, some stacked shot glasses, and a single beer can.

"What's all this?" Donnie asked

"A game," Michelangelo said as he took a seat next to Donnie on the sofa, leaving a gap between them where he placed the supplies.

"Care to elaborate?" Donnie encouraged.

"A drinking game," Mikey filled in. "Now, I'm guessing that you're a total lightweight since you're all skin and bones and you've probably never had a drop of alcohol before, so you can start with a beer. The rest of us are having tequila."

Leo started to protest. But Mikey stayed firm, "tequila."

"Couldn't I at least have sake?" Leo whined as he took a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table.

"Te-qui-la," Mikey stated emphatically.

"Fine," Leo pouted.

Michelangelo clapped his hands to bring everyone to alertness. "So, on these pieces of paper, I wrote down things that happened while Donnie was gone. Donnie picks a slip and guesses who it's about. If he gets it right, he chooses one of us to take a shot of tequila. If he gets it wrong, he has to take a sip of beer."

Everyone looked at each other with uncertainty. "Seems fair," Donnie said. The others took a shot glass to signify their consent.

Donatello pursed his lips and reached deep into the bowl. He selected a piece of paper and unfolded it, reading the slip out loud. "I have a secret apartment deep in the sewers that I think no one knows about." It seemed too easy. "That's got to be Raph, right?"

"You guys know about that?" Raph said with a deadpan expression. He then gave Donnie a wink.

"Seems like you ought to take the shot then, Raph." Donnie declared. He suspected that Raph was laying the groundwork for an apartment long before the abduction.

"Aye-aye," Raph said before easily tossing one back. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Donnie picked another slip. "I kissed Renet." He paused. "Mikey is the only one who I've heard mention her… So, is it you?" Donnie asked the orange-banded turtle.

Mikey puffed out his chest. "You got it, Bro. Not to kiss and tell."

"Oh please, you 'tell' every chance you get," Raph complained.

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out. "You're just jealous. Green with envy even."

"Pull another slip," Raph barked, cutting Mikey off before the train derailed.

"What about the shot?" Leo asked.

"Mikey," Donnie announced. "Because there ought to be repercussions for kissing and telling."

"No regrets," Mikey said as he took his punishment.

Donnie drew a third slip from the bowl. "My picture was in the paper and I got in trouble with Master Splinter." Donnie took a moment to reread the slip. Could be anyone, really. Splinter wouldn't punish them for an accident, and only one brother would have done it on purpose. "Mikey," he said firmly.

"Wrong!" Mikey shouted emphatically. "It was Raph!"

"Gotta bring that up any time a chance arises, huh, Mikey?" Raph grumbled.

"Crack that beer, Donnie!" Mikey ordered victoriously.

Donnie did as commanded, taking his first sip of alcohol a few years later than expected. It was bitter and fizzy but not entirely unpleasant. "Can I hear the story?" he requested.

Raphael groaned, but he told it anyway. "Casey and I were working as a vigilante team even though Splinter and Splinter Junior ordered us not too. One night, we stopped a couple of thugs from robbing a jewelry store. The news showed up, and they printed a story that included a picture. If you reeaaaally squinted, you could see us on the roof. It was so blurry that nobody would have noticed, but Mikey felt the need to rat us out, anyway."

"He called himself Nightwatcher," Mikey said with an eye roll. "It had to stop somehow."

"Next!" Raphael shouted.

Donnie cleared his throat and selected a slip. If he hadn't already swallowed he would have spit his beer out all over the floor. "I set the Shellcycle on fire!" He barely paused before instinctively yelling "Raphael!"

Raphael turned to Michelangelo and punched him in the shoulder. "I didn't set it on fire, it caught fire! There's a difference. Why did you have to make it sound like I'm the devil?!"

Michelangelo was nonplussed. "You never fully explained how it could have magically caught fire on its own. Fires have to be set, Bro."

"They do not. Besides, I told you a thousand times that I don't know how it caught fire. I'm not Donnie, I can't always explain these things!" Raphael defended.

"Take a shot Raph. We'll discuss this later," Donatello scolded. He then aggressively pulled another slip, wondering how many of his creations had survived the past few years. "I adopted a sewer rat, but it ran away." He looked at his brothers questioningly. Raphael was clearly suppressing a laugh, and Leo and Mikey were exchanging dirty looks. It had to be one of the latter two, and Donnie couldn't envision Leo with a pet rat. "Michelangelo."

"Wrong!" Mikey yelled as he leaped out of his seat. "Wrong! It was Leo, take a sip, Donnie!"

Donnie took a second sip of beer. "A rat, Leo? And why did it run away?"

"He thought it was you," Mikey snickered.

"Me?" Donnie said as he raised an eye ridge.

"I did not!" Leo countered. "It just reminded me of you."

"You think of me as rat-like?" Donnie asked, trying not to sound irritated out of fear of offending Splinter, who was sitting at the kitchen table, well within earshot.

"No. It was just this particular rat. It was friendly and smart, and it kept following us around. I liked it." There was a hint of sentimentality in Leo's voice when he spoke.

"He thought that it was your spirit returning to us…. In the form of a rat," Michelangelo explained.

Under his green skin, Leo reddened a little. "Well stranger things have happened! We had a close bond, so I bet Donnie would have tried to return to us if he had really died. And it's not like a rat would have been a bad choice. Splinter is a rat, and there are a ton of them down here, so he'd blend in."

"You're kind of contradicting what you said a minute ago, Leonardo," Donnie pointed out. Did you, or did you not, think that I was a rat?"

Leonardo slumped. "All right. I kind of did believe it for a little while."

Donnie was hit with a wave of melancholy. It was just so sad to think of his brothers missing him so much that they were looking for him in a rat. Leo had a bittersweet look in his eye as well. Fortunately, the heavy mood was quickly replaced by amusement. "You must have been pretty offended when I ran away," Donnie laughed.

"I was," Leo said with a grin. "You bit me!"

"It wasn't me, Leo! I can assure you that I never took the form of a rat. And if I had the opportunity to reincarnate, I would choose something with a longer lifespan. Who wants to die twice in five years?"

"I'd still feel better if you apologized," Leo smiled.

"Fine. I'm sorry that the rat you incorrectly assumed was a receptacle for my spirit bit you and ran off."

"Apology accepted. Was that so hard?"

"It's you who ought to apologize to Don," Raphael cut in. "We told you not to handle that thing so much."

"You never should have caught him to begin with. Sewer rats have got to be free." Mikey added, wisely. "Sometimes I still see him, but he takes off whenever Leo's around."

"Let me know the next time he shows up," Donnie requested as he picked out another slip of paper. "I'd like to meet my little doppelganger." Don unfolded the slip in his hands. "I have an alter-ego that I call 'Nightwatcher.' You already gave this one away! It's Raph. Take a shot Mikey."

"Why me? Raph is the Nightwatcher."

"Because you wrote the slips out. You should've remembered that this was in here before you told me the answer ahead of time. Now drink," Donnie commanded.

Mikey did as he was told, but not without some additional grumbling about how unfair it was.

"I had a fling with a Salamandrian," Donnie read. "What the heck is a Salamandrian?"

"It's an alien that kind of looks like a humanoid salamander," Leo helpfully explained.

"Tough one," Donnie replied. "You're all suspects. Was it…. Mikey?"

"No, it was Raph! Take a swig, Donnie!" Mikey shouted, happy to be vindicated after being forced to take a shot that in his mind was rightfully Raph's.

"A fling, huh? Good for you, Raph." If moving around wasn't so difficult for Donatello, he would have crossed over to where Raphael was seated in the recliner and given him a pat on the shoulder. Since he wasn't feeling up to it, he just raised the beer in tribute before taking a drink. Raph actually blushed a bit. At least one of the brothers didn't like to kiss and tell.

"Next. I bikini-wax my shell in secret… hmmm." Donnie looked around to gauge his brothers' reactions. Michelangelo was suppressing a giggle, which seemed to be happening a lot during this game. Mikey actually would have been Donnie's first guess, but clearly he was taking delight in outing somebody. "Leo?" Donnie guessed.

"How did you know about that?!" Leo cried, gesticulating in a wild manner that was entirely unlike him.

"We share a bathroom, dude," an unrepentant Michelangelo explained. "Plus, sometimes little bits and pieces stick around on your carapace for a few days."

Leo looked to Raph, who shrugged and subtly nodded at the same time.

"Well, you try waxing your own shell," Leo huffed.

"The question is why bother?" Michelangelo pondered. "We're already completely hairless."

"For aerodynamics," Leo preached. "It smooths out all the rough spots, which allows for better airflow. It's the same reason that many competitive swimmers choose to shave before a tournament."

Raph had been trying to remain neutral but couldn't hold back a giggle. "What? You're a competitive swimmer now?"

Leonardo frowned. "You never know when you'll need that extra edge to escape a rouge foot soldier."

"Plus, it's so shiny and smooooth," Mikey teased as he attempted to caress Leo's shell. "Aesthetics - just admit that's why you really do it."

"I will do no such thing, and I think that we all have some bathroom habits we'd prefer to keep to ourselves, Mr. sports manicure," Leo emphasized.

"Those were trendy!" a wounded Michelangelo cringed, hand over his heart.

Donnie waved his arms to bring a halt to the argument. "While I'm on Leo's side about the need for privacy, I think this shot goes to Leo. Only because he hasn't had one yet, and I question the effectiveness of shell-waxing on aerodynamics," Donnie judged.

Leo grumbled but Raphael cut him off. "Donnie has spoken. Drink, Leo!"

Leo scrunched his face up in distaste, but he did as he was told.

Donnie pulled another piece of paper. "I had my veggie pizza pocket recipe published in Working Mother Magazine. Who else could it be but Mikey?"

"I'm not even ashamed," Mikey said. This time he took a sip voluntarily.

Donnie just shrugged his consent and drew from the bowl once more. "I have my own fan club, complete with groupies... Another one of Mikey's?" he asked, assuming it had to be related to the Turtle Titan persona.

"It's not meeee," Mikey drawled.

Donnie looked around. Leo certainly wasn't about to publicize himself. Could it be related to this Nightwatcher thing? "Raphael?"

"Uh, no." Raph said looking equally baffled.

"It's Splinter!" Mikey yelled. "He never expected us to find out."

Everyone turned to where the rat master was sitting on the opposite side of the room. He raised the teacup he was holding to his sons in acknowledgement. "Being battle nexus champion does come with its privileges," he explained.

"Groupies?" an incredulous Leo repeated.

"All of us champions have groupies," Mikey bluffed. "I'm just too modest to discuss it."

"Neither of us has groupies," Splinter pointed out. "Stop disrespecting women. It is dishonorable. This is why you do not have a fan club, Michelangelo."

"Burned!" Raphael yelled enthusiastically. "Burned by your own father!"

Donnie laughed so hard he almost spilled his beer. That reminded him. "You didn't tell me Splinter was an option. Do I still have to drink?" Donnie asked.

"Yeah," Leo agreed. "The rules weren't clear. I call shenanigans. You should take the shot, Mikey."

Mikey turned to Raph for support but found no respite. "You dug your own grave on this one. Now, drink."

"Take a shot, Mikey," Donnie reinforced.

"Donnniiiieee, you're supposed to spread it around. You're gonna get me drunk."

"Maybe you need to show more honor," Donnie said with a smile. He pulled another slip out of the bowl. "One time I slipped on a banana peel," he read. "Um, this one's easy. I did that," he admitted.

"You're not the only one," Michelangelo hiccupped.

"Was it you?" Donnie asked Mikey. It seemed like the sort of thing that Mikey would've done for comedic effect.

"Of course, it wasn't him. It was me!" Raphael yelled. "Mikey, why is it that all of yours are flattering, but all of mine and Leo's are embarrassing?"

"I can't help it if I'm awesome and you're an embarrassment!" Michelangelo shouted.

"Oh yeah? Any of these slips mention which one of us threw up in front of a thousand spectators during the Battle Nexus?" Raph growled.

"Mikey!" Donnie laughed, raising his beer in assumed triumph.

"Anything about who got their hand stuck in a drainage pipe?" Leo added with a smirk.

Mikey crossed his arms and glowered as best he could. The tequila was hitting him hard now, and he swayed a bit with the movement.

"How about 'I cried when my favorite cartoon was canceled?' Did that one make its way into the bowl?" Raphael continued.

Leo took another turn. "How about 'I spent months saving up enough box tops for X-ray glasses, and was genuinely surprised when they didn't work?'"

Mikey flopped back against the sofa. "You guys are ruining my game," he mourned.

"No, they're not. I'm having a great time," Donnie proclaimed.

Mikey was too. This was going exactly how he had hoped that it would. Despite the clownish role he sometimes preferred to play, Michelangelo was no dummy. He knew that this was the way things were going to play out, and it was a hit that he was willing to take for the team. Everyone was laughing harder than they had in years. More importantly, they were talking about the past. Even though they glossed over the tough stuff and didn't cover everything, the conversation had begun.

It could come out later, how they would find Raphael curled up and unresponsive on the garage floor, how they had worried about Leo's mental health, how Mikey would ask Renet to take him back in time just so that he could hear Donnie's voice. Maybe after that, they could talk about where Donnie had been and what he had gone through.

But first, they had to find a way to talk about the easy stuff, and this game had been a stroke of brilliance. The massive hangover that Michelangelo dealt with the next day was more than worth it, especially because he had Donnie to chill out with on the sofa.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Coming up next chapter - Raphael being a big softie.**


	34. Chapter 34

A week had passed since the drinking game, and life at the lair was a lot more relaxed. Donatello still wasn't speaking much about his own ordeal, but now that he had a taste of what the past four years had been like for everyone else, he didn't feel like as much of an outsider. He'd been asking more questions and had even made a few jokes. He had started taking cooking lessons from Michelangelo, and the two had fixed the shower together. Donnie had also begun working with Raphael in the garage. It was repair work, rather than engineering and building, but at least it kept him off the sofa. He still had tea with Splinter every morning, and he'd been meditating with Leonardo in the afternoons.

While he hadn't spoken of his reasoning, Donnie was meditating and making himself busy in the hopes of finding a way to deal with his nightmares, or in the very least to distract himself from them. They'd been getting worse, and Donnie was no longer comfortable sleeping in the living room. He was afraid that one of these nights he was going to wake up screaming, and he didn't want anyone to know what he was going through. Noises had a way of carrying and amplifying in that large, centralized room. He needed the privacy of his bedroom, and a door that he could close.

In an effort to feel more at ease with himself, he had been spending small bursts of time during the day alone. To this end, he had recently begun venturing back into his room on occasion. Mostly he just read or surfed the web. He'd begun trying to get a surgical plan into place for his back so that his family wouldn't be overwhelmed when he finally put in his formal request. It was best done in private for now, given the unpleasantness of the subject matter.

So, while he had been in and out of his bedroom over the past week, this was the first time that Donnie had actually worked up the courage to attempt sleeping in there. He was discovering that coming in here to work during the day and coming in here to sleep at night were two very different things. The night was creepy, and he felt so lonely without the noises of his family around him. He cast his eyes around the darkened room in an effort to calm his mind. Vestiges of the person that he used to be were all around him, reminding how much he had changed - projects he had no interest in finishing, books he didn't care about reading, weapons that he couldn't imagine himself ever wielding again. He didn't want to think about any of that, so he turned his gaze upwards instead.

The cracks on the ceiling looked exactly the same as they had years before. There were a few more water stains, though. Had anyone been checking the pipes? He hoped so. Maybe he should examine them just in case? These things did have a way of snowballing quickly. Maybe he should do that now? No of course not. It was the middle of the night, and he'd have to come up with a good plan for getting up there, given his current physical condition. Maybe he'd need to ask a brother for help. They'd probably just try to stop him, though. Why was he even thinking about this now? He was supposed to be trying to sleep. "Knock it off, Donnie," he scolded himself. His harsh whisper cut through the otherwise quiet room like a knife. Donnie crumpled his brow and sighed, hoping that the more peaceful noise would cancel things out.

The night air was cold, but the bed was nice and cozy. What a luxury it was, to be sleeping on a bed again. Donnie tried to focus each of his senses on the comfort that it offered - the smell of freshly laundered linens, the feel of warmth and softness, the sight of darkness that enveloped everything (and definitely wasn't scaring him right now), the sound of silence that surrounded him (no reason to be scared of that either, right?), the taste of... well, he wasn't about to taste anything. The bed sure was nice though. After four years of sleeping on hard concrete, Donnie would never take a bed for granted again.

But however nice the bed was, Donnie couldn't escape the unsettling feeling that he was trapped. Being enclosed in a small area like this made him feel like he was back in his cell. Still, he couldn't keep sleeping in the living room forever. He was a grown-up after all. He ought to be able to overcome this. It was a bedroom, not a cage. It hadn't seemed so bad earlier today, when Donnie had announced his plans.

" _You want to sleep in your room tonight?_ " Leo had echoed.

" _I think I'm ready, to try at least. Worst case-scenario I just end up on the sofa again, right?"_

Leo had looked at Splinter, who gave a subtle nod. " _Okay then, we'll just go spruce it up for you. We've all slept in there from time to time."_ Leo's cheeks had taken on a bit of color then, as though he hadn't meant to say those words.

" _I'll strip the sheets,_ " Michelangelo had volunteered. " _Pretty sure it was me who_ _bunked in there last._ "

" _Think I left some old soda cans on the nightstand_ ," Raphael added.

Leo just smiled and shrugged. " _I always clean up after myself._ "

" _Yeah, yeah, Mr. Perfect, but you know you can't resist the urge to micromanage this_ ," Raphael had opined as he put one arm around Leo and the other around Donnie. They had all swept into the room together and busied themselves with dusting and tidying up.

This place had seemed so much more welcoming then, with the light on and his brothers there. It had felt like he was returning to his familiar old bedroom, not the room of some stranger. But even though his family hadn't done anything but clean, the atmosphere felt different now. Maybe it was because his brothers had apparently spent a substantial amount of time in here mourning him. Could it be that a trace of that sadness remained, like a ghost that only came out at night?

That was a depressing thought. Donnie turned and stared at his work table. Everything in this place was just how he remembered it, right down to the piles of paper and mason jars filled with screws. Apparently, his family couldn't bring themselves to change anything. But really, he had never spent much time in here before his kidnapping anyway. The lab, the garage and the dojo had been much more important. And if he was too tired to train or work, he was more likely to be found at the kitchen table or on the sofa with his family than in this bed. His room was a place that he stumbled to and passed out. It was rarely a place where he lingered when he was awake, and it was never a place where he spent sleepless nights like this one was turning out to be. The sofa was so tempting now. "Don't give in," he groaned.

Donnie rolled onto his other side, wincing at the stabbing pain in his back. Maybe he just needed to get more comfortable? Oh, who was he kidding? This was a losing battle, and Donnie officially declared defeat. He carefully untangled himself from the twisted sheets and blanket and got up to head to his refuge on the sofa. He limped across the cold floor and opened the door as quietly as he could.

Just outside, leaning on the adjacent wall as if keeping guard, sat Raphael. "Couldn't sleep?" Raph greeted. Donnie let out a gasp and jumped at the unexpected presence. Raphael cringed. He should've known better. Donnie startled so easily these days.

Once Donatello calmed down, he realized that he didn't want to admit the truth. He felt trapped, isolated from his family. He was scared, and it embarrassed him. "I just needed a glass of water," he fibbed, his voice still shaky and uneven.

"I can get you one," Raph offered as he rose to his feet. "You shouldn't be walking around by yourself in the dark. Go back to bed, okay?"

Trapped, Donnie hobbled back to bed and sat morosely on its edge. A moment later, Raph returned with a cup of water. Raphael's gaze fell on the twisted linens. He'd been listening to his brother toss and turn for hours now but had hoped that it was just a restless sleep. By the looks of things, he hadn't slept at all. Raphael frowned and took a seat next to his slumping brother.

"This all you needed?" Raph said as he handed Donatello the glass.

Donnie nodded and took a few sips.

Raphael narrowed his eyes. "You telling me the truth?"

Donnie lowered the glass and sighed as his shoulders drooped. "I guess not. I just can't seem to sleep in here. I want to, though."

Raphael shook his head and tried his best to make his gravelly voice sound gentle. He was tired too. "There's no shame in that, Don. You've been through a lot. If you need help, you just gotta ask."

"It's embarrassing, though. I'm not a kid. I ought to be able to sleep on my own."

"You wanna know why I was outside your door?" Raphael coaxed.

Donnie cracked a half smile. "I assume you saw this coming?"

"I suppose that's part of it, but the truth is that I just wanted to be near you and know that you're safe. It's still kinda hard to believe, especially at night. If I feel that way, I can only imagine how you must feel."

Donnie's half smile bloomed into a full one and he threw his arms around his brother. "Aww, Raphie!"

"Ya well I'd say don't tell the others, but I'm pretty sure they feel the same way," Raph said as he returned the hug. "So, what do you say? Should we sleep in the living room, or do you wanna give your bed another shot?"

Donnie thought about that as he enjoyed the feeling of having his brother's arms around him. Just as he'd never take a bed for granted, he'd never take another hug for granted either. "Maybe we should stay in here," he decided. "Baby steps, you know."

"Fine by me. I'll take the outside" Raph hesitated before joining Donatello. He hovered awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck before finally speaking. "You know, Donnie, there's something I want to tell you. I hope you already know, but I wanna say it anyway."

"What's that?" Donatello asked, watching his brother intently.

"Just that I love you. We all do, and we never stopped even when you were gone, and we thought you were dead. I hope you always knew that, and I hope you're seeing it now. But, I still thought you should hear the words."

It was true that Donnie had needed to hear that. Maybe not before crawling into bed together, but he'd needed to hear it nonetheless. It had been so long, and he had been so far down. "Thanks, Raphie. I love you too."

"And, don't feel like you need to do any of this alone," Raphael added. "You don't have to sleep alone, or cry alone, or whatever. You've been alone enough. You don't ever have to be alone again unless you want to be."

"Thanks, Raphie," Don repeated with a tired yawn. It hadn't been intentional, but it made his point just the same. Raphael straightened the sheets and blankets, then climbed into the bed and the brothers said their goodnights. They laid side by side, both now feeling more at peace, if not a bit cramped for space. Raph fell asleep first, unconsciously rolling towards center and placing an arm protectively over his brother. As soon as he was sure that Raph was really out, Donnie snuggled in closer, drifting off moments later. He didn't suffer any nightmares that night.

* * *

 **Yesterday I received a message stating that this fic has been nominated for most exciting action/adventure, and that _Just Another Tuesday Morning_ had been nominated for funniest comedy in the TMNT Universal Reader Choice Awards. I must admit that it came as a surprise, but I'd like to truly thank whoever was responsible. It really made my day. As always, thanks for all of your reviews, favorites and follows, and thanks for reading. **


	35. Chapter 35

For several weeks now, Splinter had taken tea with Donatello each morning. They still hadn't spoken much about their missing time, but today seemed different. Splinter could see the disturbances rippling through Donatello's aura. The boy was grappling with something. "My son, something troubles you. What is it?" Splinter asked.

Donatello's brown eyes flickered, but his lips remained sealed. Splinter didn't want to push, but at some point, Donatello would have to start talking. He'd been home for weeks now. Taking a few days was fine, but if he continued to stall, discussing his ordeal would only grow harder. "Donatello, please," Splinter begged. "Talk to me."

Donatello leaned forward. "I can see you," he said, "...and I know you can see me."

From his tone, Splinter could tell that Donatello was referring to their presence on the spiritual plane.

"I couldn't see you then - when I was gone," Donatello admitted, tears coming to his eyes. "Could you… could you see me?... Couldn't you see me at all?" Really, Donatello knew the answer to this question. He knew that his family thought that he was dead, so of course they couldn't see his spirit. But still, he needed to hear it confirmed. He didn't understand how they could've been hidden from each other for so long, and unsolved mysteries never sat well with the intelligent turtle.

Splinter lunged forwards and put his paws over Donatello's hands. "My son...my son, I could not. But know that I never stopped searching. Though I was never met with anything but emptiness, I kept trying to find you. I promise you this."

"I believe you," Donnie croaked. "For me, there was a hole where you all used to be. It hurt, father. It physically hurt. There was a gravity to it. At times I feared it would suck me in." Donatello freed a hand to massage a temple, remembering that horrible pain that tore his mind apart each time he called for his family. "Was it like that for you too?"

Splinter almost wished that it was. The pain in his heart was so severe, that it should have been physical. He would've gladly endured it, if it meant sparing his son an ounce of his own suffering. But his experience was not the same as Donatello's, and if they were going to get the bottom of this, complete honesty would be important.

Donatello could see the sympathy in his father's eyes. "No, my son. It did not hurt in the manner that you describe. For us, you simply weren't there. There was no physical pain."

"Good," Donnie sighed. "I'm glad that it didn't hurt you too. But why?... Why was it different for us? And why can we see each other now? What changed other than my physical whereabouts?"

Splinter wished he had the answers, but he could only make an educated guess. "I do not know for sure, but there is something that I can offer you. Soon after your disappearance, we met with the Daimyo to see if he could find any sign of you with the War Staff. He was not successful. At first, we assumed that meant your death had been confirmed, but then, he mentioned the possibility of a spiritual block."

"A spiritual block - what's that?" Donatello asked. Splinter had to smile as Donatello's inherent curiosity caused the purple of his aura to flair. The blackness had been all too dominant this morning.

"My understanding is that it is a very powerful spell that can be used to conceal one's presence on the spiritual plane. But there are very few beings capable of such a feat. My son, I must ask, did you encounter any of the Foot Mystics during your captivity?"

"No. Aren't they dead?" Donatello pondered.

"We believed so as well. What about mages, wizards, anything of the like?"

Donatello shook his head, the purple receding once more into the black. "No. There was nothing… no one like that. There was only… it was only…" Donatello dropped his head into his hands. "I can't… I'm sorry, father. I can't talk about this. There was nothing like that though... Not that I saw."

Splinter gathered his distraught son into his arms. "It's okay. It's okay, Donatello. We will figure this out in time."

* * *

Donatello hobbled out of the dojo and towards the sofa. Raphael moved over to make room, but Donnie brushed right past without a word. "You okay, Bro?" Raph called.

"I'm fine," Donnie answered. "I think I just need a little time alone."

Leonardo fought the urge to follow Donnie. He watched his brother's retreat, then looked up at Splinter, who was observing from the dojo's entryway.

Splinter slowly shook his head. He seemed sad, but then appeared to push it back. He stood up straighter, and his eyes grew sharper. "Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo - You three please come with me." The sound of Donatello's door closing punctuated the end of Splinter's sentence.

The three perplexed turtles did as requested and filed into the dojo. Out of habit, they took their customary positions. Splinter looked at his three students, and they looked back expectantly. The turtles seemed to assume that Splinter had some sort of plan in mind, but alas, he did not. He had simply seized the opportunity when it presented itself. The ninjas had been idle for almost a month. While they had been meaning to resume training, there was no specific plan or timeframe. For once in his life, Splinter was winging it. "Toes straight, Michelangelo," he chided.

Michelangelo looked down in confusion. "Uh, they are?"

Indeed, they were. Splinter cleared his throat. "Yes, very good. Now, are the three of you warmed up?"

"All due respect master, we weren't expecting this, so...no?" Raphael admitted.

"A ninja should always be ready for the unexpected, Raphael," Splinter preached, knowing darn well that his sons couldn't have been expected to take random stretch breaks throughout the day. "Take ten minutes to prepare yourselves, then you will spar two-on-one."

Leo and Mikey dropped to the floor and began stretching exercises. Raphael stayed on his feet and did the same. He couldn't keep himself from smirking. Out of all the turtles, Raph had missed this the most.

"Do any of you volunteer as the solo fighter?" Splinter asked.

Leonardo and Raphael both eagerly raised their hands. "Very well," Splinter said. "Leonardo and Raphael will team up and face Michelangelo."

"Aww, man," Michelangelo moaned, crumpling forward and bumping his forehead into the mat. Today was going to stink.

* * *

Donatello looked up from his computer. The sounds of mock battle had been ringing out from the dojo for the past few hours. He hated to think of his family fighting. He just wanted them to stay safe and holed up here with him forever. Listening to them returning to their normal routine felt almost like a betrayal, although he was ashamed of himself for thinking that way. It had already been a difficult morning, and the thought of his brothers heading off on new adventures and therefore leaving him behind was only making things worse. Not only that, but they could get hurt out there, kidnapped or even killed, and he would be helpless to stop it. A shudder ran through him as he turned back to the computer screen.

He couldn't believe what he was doing - looking up information about mystics and spiritual blocks. There was a time that Donnie didn't even believe in that mumbo jumbo, but now he was quite sure that anything was possible. He'd pretty much seen it all during his short lifetime.

Aside from a few conspiracy theories and click-bait articles, he hadn't been able to find any help online. While he hadn't expected to glean much credible info from the web, there weren't a lot of legitimate places that he could begin his search. It felt like the sort of thing that would be buried in an ancient text in a forgotten shrine somewhere, but darned if he knew where to start with something like that. The web was as easy a place as any.

Donnie engrossed himself in his work until he was pulled from his reverie by a soft knock on the door. "It's me," Michelangelo called.

"Come on in," Donnie answered. He hadn't even noticed that the sounds of the training session had stopped.

Michelangelo smiled warmly as he entered.

"Splinter is putting you guys through the paces, huh?" Donnie greeted, trying to cover up his sadness with small talk.

"I'm afraid so," Mikey confirmed. "I guess that party-time couldn't last forever. Anyway, the guys and I made some post-workout protein shakes. Do you want one?" Michelangelo shook one of the cups that he was holding, in an effort to make the green slush within it appear more appealing. "I can make you something else if you want. Eggs? Blueberry pancakes?"

Donnie looked at the clock on his computer. It had been a while since he'd eaten, but lately Michelangelo had been a lot less pushy about portion sizes and keeping on schedule. "Whatever you guys are having is fine, Mikey. Thank you," Donnie softly replied.

Michelangelo handed Donatello one of the cups and then took a seat on the bed. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Donnie answered slowly. "Just trying to figure a few things out."

"Like what? Is it something that I can help with?" Mikey offered.

Donnie didn't respond right away, but he at least turned his chair away from the computer to face his brother, his useless leg sticking out awkwardly in its ever-present splint. He slumped down in his seat and put a hand on his temple. "I don't know, Mikey. I don't think that this is really in your wheelhouse," he finally answered.

"Try me," Mikey encouraged.

Donnie closed his eyes. What was really bothering him was not so much the idea of the spiritual block itself, but the idea that someone must have been tinkering in his head to have put it there. He knew about the drugs his captors had tested on him, but that hadn't come until later and ultimately, none of them had worked. This supposed block had been there right from the beginning, and it had been extremely effective. Even though it was apparently gone now, the fact that it had been present at all was repulsive.

Donnie just felt so violated. Someone had managed to invade his very mind itself. He wondered what else they might have seen, or if they could somehow regain or even expand their hold. As far as he could tell, there was no way of knowing. He'd been mulling it over for hours now and getting nowhere. His thoughts kept returning to the Triceraton warship, his enemies leafing through his mind like pages in a magazine. Had the same thing happened again? Did Pseudo-Shredder know where he was hiding, or what he was doing right now? Was he just biding his time before making his move? Donnie's whole body shuddered in fear.

For Mikey, the prolonged silence and Donatello's troubled face were too much to bear. He took a long sip of his drink, hoping to appear casual. "Come on, you can tell me," Mikey urged. "I know you're having a bad day. I betcha talking will help."

Donnie chuckled a little at that. He opened his eyes and gave Mikey a sad but loving smile. "I'm not having a bad day. Believe me, this is not what a bad day looks like for me anymore."

Michelangelo drummed his fingers on his glass, gazing at it thoughtfully. "After everything you've been through, I'll bet your definition must have changed, but that doesn't mean that nothing is wrong. Just talk to me Donnie. You don't have to tell me everything. Just let me in a little. Maybe just let me get a toe in the door or something."

Donnie put a hand on Mikey's knee. "Do you think I'm shutting you guys out on purpose? Because I'm not. I mean, that's not my intention, anyway. It's just… a lot, you know? I went through a lot, and I'm dealing with a lot… and nobody cared about me for a long time, so I guess that I kind of forgot how to do all this… opening up stuff."

Mikey furrowed his brow. "That's not true - the part about nobody caring. We cared all along, Donnie. You've got to know that. I mean, you've seen the shrine and everything!"

Donnie was taken aback. He hadn't meant to sound so self-absorbed. "I know. I do. I just meant that nobody who was around me cared." Donnie looked down. "Goodness knows that I've never done well with my emotions, so that just makes things harder." For a moment, neither of them spoke, then Donnie quietly asked. "Are you ever afraid of me, Mikey?"

"What?!" Mikey sputtered. "No! Why would I be?!"

"Just… you don't know what they did to me. In truth, _I_ don't even really know what they did to me. What if they programmed me or something? What if I'm a ticking time bomb?"

"Is that what's bugging you?" Mikey wondered aloud.

"Maybe, in a roundabout way," Donnie admitted. "It's kind of what's bugging me today, at least. It really didn't occur to me until this morning, but now it's all I can think about. Splinter told me about what the Daimyo said… the spiritual block. What if there's more to it than the obvious?"

Mikey frowned. "Oh. So, you do think you really were blocked?"

"What else could it have been?" Donnie asked, hoping against hope that Mikey would actually have an answer.

"I don't know, but the idea of you somehow becoming programmed or possessed because of it seems pretty far-fetched," Michelangelo opined. "We can all see you now, so it must be gone. Or maybe it wasn't even something that was done to your mind. Maybe there was some sort of tool or artifact that they were using, and now that you're not near it, it doesn't have any power over you. We've certainly seen things like that before."

Donnie shrugged. "I don't know. All these theories seem equally far-fetched. But whatever happened to me had a drastic effect. I just wish that I knew what they did or how they did it, so that I can be sure that it's really over, or gone, or whatever."

"It's gone," Mikey stared firmly. "How could it not be? What evidence is there that something is wrong?"

"There isn't any," Donnie admitted. "But I don't understand what happened in the first place, and you know how much I hate not understanding things. I just feel so helpless."

"You can't let yourself fixate on this, Bro. It's not healthy," Michelangelo declared.

"I know, Mikey. Gosh, you would think I would've gotten used feeling helpless by now, wouldn't you?"

"I get it. You've been through a lot and you just want to be sure that you're really safe. But instead of floundering around on our own, we ought to go to the expert. We should really be talking to the Daimyo about this," Mikey suggested. "If anyone specializes in these matters, it's him."

"No!" Donnie recoiled.

"What?" a startled Mikey cringed. "What's wrong?"

Donnie was gasping a little, but already seemed to be calming down. "Nothing… It's just that… that would mean leaving the lair."

"And that would be a bad thing?" Mikey asked.

"I'm not leaving," Donnie announced "Not ever again."

Michelangelo put a hand on Donnie's shell. Outside, he was smiling, but inside, his stomach dropped. This wasn't good. Today stunk, alright.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**


	36. Chapter 36

Donatello had been very quiet the past day or two, and Leonardo had spoken to his father and brothers and figured out why. After their afternoon meditation session, he decided to broach the difficult subject. It was just the two of them, sitting on the floor of Leonardo's candle-lit bedroom. Donnie was oozing vulnerability and appeared to be lost in his thoughts. As far as Leonardo was concerned, the timing was perfect.

"So, Michelangelo tells me that you're never leaving the lair again?" Leonardo started.

Donnie blinked owlishly, and then began studying a particularly interesting crack in the wall. "Oh, that. I guess I was being a little silly," he admitted.

"It's not silly," Leonardo soothed. "If it were up to me I'd probably insist on keeping you here, but I think we both know that's not really what you want."

Donnie hummed. "I don't know what I want. Heck, most days I don't even know who I am anymore."

"Believe it or not, I understand what you're going through," Leo admitted. "I've experienced something similar myself… A few times, actually."

Donnie knew that Leo was right. The leader was no stranger to PTSD, and if anyone in the family could relate to Donnie's current struggles, it was him. But it was harder for Donnie to open up to Leo that it was for him to open up to Mikey and Raph. It wasn't that he loved Leo any less; The problem was more that Donnie knew how guilty Leo felt about everything. Talking to him felt like rubbing salt in an open wound, and since Donnie hated discussing his problems to begin with, his instinct was to just keep completely quiet about everything when Leo was around. Clearly, that wasn't what Leo wanted, though. It was obvious that he had been trying to reach out and offer help.

"How did you get through it?" Donatello asked.

"With a lot of help from my loved ones," Leo confessed. "Now listen, I can't pretend to know exactly what's going on in your head, nor can I pretend that I know how to fix everything for you. But, I can tell you that you definitely don't want to be trapped down here forever."

"I don't?" Donatello wondered aloud.

"No," Leo laughed. "You've got to have some sort of life. And, I know firsthand that the longer that you stew in these feelings, the worse they'll get." Leo then grinned mischievously. "So, let's do this now. Let's go out tonight."

Donatello perked up in shock, finally meeting Leo's eyes. "What! Where on earth would we go?"

Leo stood and crossed his arms. "That's the thing, Donnie. You know that Master Splinter had us resume training yesterday. I'd like to take the guys out on patrol, just to get us back in the fresh air, you know?"

Having lost interest in the wall, Donnie began to examine the floor instead. "Yeah," he drawled. Donnie knew that wasn't expected to patrol with them, so he wasn't sure how this related to getting him out of the lair.

"Well," Leo resumed. "I was thinking that if it sounded good to you, maybe we could drop you off at April and Casey's? It would get you out of here, and you'd have a chance to meet Gabrielle. You know that she can't come here, so that means that you have to go there. What do you say?"

Donnie brightened, which came as a surprise even to himself. He'd been wanting to make up for his embarrassing showing the last time he saw April and Casey, and maybe there was something to be said for doing it today and not allowing himself to overthink things. "That is a good idea," Donnie decided. "And, you definitely want to do this tonight?"

"Yup," Leo confirmed. "The sooner the better. We don't want your feet growing roots."

"Hey," Donnie teased. "None of you guys have left either!"

Leo grinned back. "Exactly. Real world here we come."

* * *

"Do you guys think it would be weird if I wrote my own theme song?" Michelangelo asked.

Raphael rolled his eyes but decided to play along for a minute. "Yes," he grumbled.

"Yeah, me too," Mikey sighed. "I mean, you would think it would've been done for me by now. Maybe if I wrote the first line or two, someone would get the hint and finish it?"

Raphael was perturbed enough to swing around. "What the shell are you talking about, Mikey?"

"An online contest maybe?"

"You're a ninja! Why do you need a theme song?" Raphael exploded.

"Ninja, Turtle Titan, time traveler, battle nexus champion, all-around cool guy, I wear many hats."

"No one is supposed to know about most of those things," Leo pointed out. "Just like nobody's supposed to know that we're out here, so keep it down."

To say that the turtles' patrol skills were rusty would have been putting it mildly. They were happy to be out of the lair, but it felt weird leaving Donnie behind at April and Casey's apartment. As much as they were excited to have a taste of freedom again, there was a certain sense of guilt about excluding one of their own. It seemed they felt guilty about a lot of things lately.

Leo peered over the edge of the rooftop they had settled on. He wasn't much of a fan of rooftops anymore. Sure, they were great for getting a bird's eye view of the city, but it also made them easier targets. Leo had learned years ago that the men in black sedans had a much harder time identifying and following them when they stuck to the city streets like regular New-Yorkers. Therefore, rooftop patrols had become rare, even before Donnie's return. Tonight was an exception, because they wanted to be able to run free after being cooped up for so long. It was difficult to run on the streets without attracting attention, plus it required wearing clothes, which hindered their movement.

Leo also had a theory that he wanted to test. Before Donnie had returned, the men in black sedans hadn't been shy about shooting at them. If Leo's supposition that the sedans were somehow tied to Donnie's kidnapping was correct, it would be reasonable to expect a change in behavior. In theory, these men would now be looking to get Donnie back. Presumably, the other turtles would be of more use alive then dead, because if they were alive, they could be captured and used as bait. Naturally, Leo wouldn't let that happen, but he was curious to see what would change during the next encounter. Would tranquilizers be used instead of guns? Would they attempt to be stealthier? Was it possible that they would never see or hear from their mysterious enemies again?

That last question was soon answered.

"Hey," Raphael called, "isn't that one of our old friends down there?"

Leo went to join his brother where he was crouched near the ledge. He looked at the car Raph was pointing at and ran through his mental catalogue of license plate numbers. "I think that's one of them," Leo confirmed.

"So, uh, what do we do?" Mikey asked. "It's been a couple of months since we've seen them. Maybe they're not even after us anymore?"

"I highly doubt that, Mikey." Leo said. "Anyway, does that car look empty to you guys?" In an unexpected turn of events, the car was just sitting in a metered space on the road below. It didn't look like anyone was around.

Raph and Mikey took a moment to examine it before agreeing with Leo.

"What next then?" Mikey asked.

"Raph, are you still carrying those tracking devices?" Leo inquired. The turtles' tracking devices used to be cool little gadgets designed by Donatello. Now they simply used mass-produced stick-on units that were designed for absent-minded people, prone to losing their phones and keys. Still, they got the job done.

"Never leave home without them," Raphael confirmed. "You think it's safe to go near that thing, though?"

Leo hesitated. The odds of it being a trap seemed low, and Leo really wanted to know where that car was headed. Hopefully, it was going to land somewhere near the material testing facility that Donnie had escaped from. If Leo could just prove that connection, they would be that much closer to getting some answers. As it stood now, Donatello certainly wasn't providing them with any.

"Sure, I do," Leo decided. "Mikey is the fastest so I want him to plant the device. Raph, you go with him and watch his back. I'm going to stay up here and cover you with the longer-range weapons. How does that sound to everyone?"

"Fine by me," Raph confirmed. He pulled some extra throwing stars out of his belt pocket and gave them to Leo. Out of any of them, Leo had the best long-distance aim.

"Mikey?" Leo checked. "You don't need to do it if you don't want to."

"No, no, I want to. Just, if something happens, promise me you'll finish my theme song."

Raphael pressed a tracking device into Michelangelo's open palm. "We can't finish it if it's not even started," he advised.

"I'll give you the first line," Michelangelo said before setting off at a run. "Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh MIKEY!"

"That's just the batman theme song, shellhead," Raphael yelled as he began his pursuit.

"Quiet!" Leo hissed at his brothers' retreating forms. "Remember stealth? Be stealthy!" He decided then and there that they were taking the long way back.

* * *

Donnie smiled and waved across the coffee table at April and Gabrielle. Gabe responded by tucking her head into April's shoulder. Donatello slumped in discouragement. He expected that the toddler would have a tough time warming up to him, but he'd been there for over an hour and she had yet to acknowledge him at all.

"Don't feel bad," Casey soothed. "She's up pretty late, and she's not used to new people, er, turtles. Your brothers really don't come around all that often, so I'm sure she's just a little weirded-out."

"It's fine," Donatello dismissed. He'd never been the best with kids, but deep down he assumed that his scars weren't doing him any favors, either. He mentally kicked himself for not wearing a sweat-suit. It was just so hard to get clothes over his bulky leg brace and his jagged shell.

"Mommy, can I have a snack?" Gabrielle asked. Donnie jumped in his seat as he was pulled from his unpleasant line of thought.

April frowned. Donnie had been acting like a scared animal all night, and Gabe was getting cranky. "I don't know. It's a little late for a snack," April said. Gabrielle began to fuss.

"Come on," Casey encouraged. "She's up past her bedtime. If a snack will keep her quiet, then I say fine as long as it's healthy."

"Alright," April agreed. "Do you want some raisins?"

"Cookies," Gabrielle argued. She relented when she saw the look on April's face. "Fine, raisins."

Donnie sat up straighter, feeling determined to salvage the remainder of the visit. "Hey, do you guys have any clear soda, like sprite or something?" he asked.

"We don't give her soda, Donnie. She's two," Casey replied.

"It's not for drinking. I just want to show her a trick," Donnie explained.

Casey looked skeptical. "Well then yes, we do have some Sprite."

"Could you pour it into a glass, please?" Donnie requested. "The taller the better."

Casey did as was asked and returned with a small cup of raisins and a glass of soda. Donnie scooched over so that he was next to April and Gabrielle. Gabrielle looked at him suspiciously, but if she wanted her raisins, she had to stop cowering against her mother. She kept a wary eye on the turtle as she started to eat. "Want to see me make a raisin dance?" Donnie invited.

Gabe didn't respond, instead choosing to stare down the turtle. "Well, I would certainly like to see that," April encouraged.

"Here we go then," Donnie smiled. He picked up a half-dozen raisins and dropped them into the soda. They sank, unceremoniously.

Gabrielle was unimpressed. "They fell," she pointed out, to no one in particular.

"Just watch," Donnie instructed. A moment later one of the raisins floated to the top, stayed there for a few seconds, then sunk back down. After it landed, another one followed suit, and then another. Soon all six were bobbing up and down over and over again. "See that?" Donnie grinned. "Dancing raisins."

"Ooooohhh," Casey exclaimed with mock-enthusiasm.

Gabrielle was now watching intently. "I can make them dance too," she boasted. Rather than dropping some more into the soda, she played with a couple like dolls, while she hummed. Donnie smiled at the sheer innocence of it.

"Do you want to know how it works when you do it my way?" Donnie asked. Gabe just shrugged, but at least she was now interacting with him. Donnie picked up a floating raisin and held it in front of her nose. "See how it's all wrinkly? Soda bubbles get trapped in there. When there are enough caught up in the folds to make the raisin float, it goes to the top. Then when it gets to the top, the bubbles start to pop, so the raisin sinks again. But then even more bubbles build up, so it goes back to the top, and on, and on. Pretty cool right?"

Gabrielle actually smiled back, and Donnie's heart lit up. "S'that science?" she asked. "Mommy does science."

"It is," Donnie confirmed. "I do science too."

"That's part of why Uncle Donnie and I were always such good friends," April added.

"I've gotta Don in my name," Gabe responded. Donnie smiled shyly and poked at a floating raisin. "What's on your arm?" the little girl asked, jumping from topic to topic, as children will do. Donnie looked down in confusion. There was nothing on his arm. It took him a minute to realize that she was asking about the scarring from the manacles.

"Gabrielle, we talked about this," April hissed. "You don't make comments about people's bodies. Tell Donnie that you're sorry."

"No, it's okay," Donnie said. "It's just a spot where I got hurt."

"Wanna Band-aid?" Gabe offered.

"It's an old boo-boo," Donnie explained. "It doesn't need a Band-aid."

"Gonna get you a Band-Aid," Gabe insisted, as she hopped off April's lap.

"It's all about Band-Aids with this kid," Casey sighed.

"All kids are like that," April preached.

Gabrielle returned with a little box. "Wanna princess, or a puppy?"

"You can choose," Donnie invited. Unfortunately, he wound up with a horde of princesses displayed on each wrist.

Gabrielle took one too. "We match," she declared proudly.

"Yes, we do," Donnie nodded.

* * *

Leo, Raph and Mikey climbed in through April and Casey's window. By now, Gabe had gone to bed, but evidence of her was everywhere, not the least of which were the Band-Aids plastered all over Donnie. Donnie was chatting with his friends in a light-hearted manner, looking far more at ease than during the last visit. April was taking notes, which she immediately put away when she saw the others had returned from patrol.

"Have a good night?" Leo asked.

"Sure did," Donnie smiled. "Maybe there's hope for me after all."

"There's always hope, no matter what," April said wisely.

At that, Donnie was struck by a strong feeling of Deja vu. It wasn't until hours later, when he was laying all alone in bed that he remembered hearing those exact same words spoken by a much older version of April, in a hellish world that he hoped never to see again. As much as he hated being reminded of that place, he couldn't help but feel that it was a good sign. Maybe it was just that the intoxication of slumber setting in, but it felt as though April speaking those words here and now somehow cancelled that alternate reality out. It was a comforting thought, anyway.

* * *

 **As always, thank you very much for your reviews, favorites and follows. They are always much-appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


	37. Chapter 37

Physically speaking, Donatello was doing a lot better these days. Thanks to Michelangelo, he'd put on a decent amount of weight and was therefore looking far less frail. His back and leg problems were a constant and ongoing hindrance, but the others had begun helping with low-impact workouts. Raphael was assisting with building up strength and muscle mass, and Leo was coaching him on flexibility. Donnie didn't entertain any dreams of returning to his previous ninja lifestyle, and he had no specific goal in mind. However, he was beginning to foster a small seed of hope that he wouldn't feel so crippled forever. His improvements were gradual, but they were worth celebrating.

If Donnie wanted to keep on this upward trajectory, it was inevitable that he would need back surgery. The ingrown portions of his shell stabbed him with every movement. It caused him much more pain than he wanted to let on and made even simple tasks seem daunting. He had given a list of needed surgical supplies to April during their last meeting, and he had been planning for as many contingencies as he could. Soon, he intended to ask Leo to unlock the lab, so that he could start preparing a surgical area and piecing together the instruments and equipment that would be required.

Even though a plan was falling into place, he wasn't ready to make the leap of requesting surgery yet. At first, he had the excuse of not being strong enough to survive it. But now that he was getting better, he couldn't deny that the true problem was simply that he was frightened. He was scared about being knocked-out and helpless, and he was completely terrified of being cut open.

The research that he was doing wasn't helping matters. Looking at pictures of dissected turtle shells was sickening. Writing procedures for dealing with potential complications was daunting and unpleasant. The fact that he felt the need to do it all on his own was only making matters worse. It was inevitable that he would have a meltdown at some point. His brothers watched him like a hawk, but he insisted on doing certain things alone, due to his desire to keep moving towards independence. To that end, he had urged Raphael to stop standing guard by his doorway at night. Now that patrols were becoming routine, a good-night's sleep was important for Raph. He needed to be at the top of his game. Donnie didn't want to keep him up late and then feel responsible for his brother getting hurt.

But being alone was still difficult for Donnie, especially at night. Insomnia and nightmares were becoming commonplace. As much as it sucked, he kept his problems to himself. He'd been through far worse, after all.

After a day of listening to the clash of weapons as his brothers practiced, and then a night of researching common orthopedic problems when they left him behind during patrol, Donnie finally managed to fall into a light slumber. Unfortunately, it was disturbed by physical discomfort and continuous nightmares. Eventually, his relentless tossing and turning resulted in cracking his bad leg against the wall, and a wave of agony shocked him awake. Between the nightmares, the sudden awakening, the pain in his leg and the ever-present feeling of being watched, his troubled mind was completely convinced that he was back in his cell, and he instinctively lunged for the door. He was surprised that there were no chains binding him, but he knew that he had to act right away instead of questioning it.

Gasping for breath as he fought to stave off the onset of a panic attack, Donnie frantically stumbled into the hall and headed towards the nearest potential escape route that he saw - which happened to be the door to Mikey's bedroom. At this point, he was beginning to realize that he was at home, but a large part of his mind was still trapped in the nightmare. He couldn't stand to be alone anymore anyway. Donnie tumbled into Michelangelo's bed, thrust himself beneath his brother's covers and curled up shaking at Mikey's feet.

Michelangelo awoke from what had been a peaceful slumber to the ruckus in his room and was wracked with confusion. His door was open, and his blanket had been pulled down past his shoulders. Most mysterious of all, there was a quivering mass at the back of the bed. As soon as he was fully conscious he realized that it had to be Donnie. What other possibility was there? Mikey slowly moved the blankets away, careful not to startle his brother. Panting and shaking, poor Donnie gazed at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hey, it's okay," Mikey soothed as he gently reached for his brother's shoulder, "You're safe."

Donnie squeezed his eyes shut and calmed his breathing enough to speak between gasps. "I know…. I'm sorry, Mikey…. I just got really…. freaked out…. and ended up... in here…. I didn't mean to…. wake you."

Mikey tried to suppress a chuckle. If this situation wasn't so sad, it would have been cute. "It's okay, Donnie. You're always welcome here." Mikey urged Donnie up towards the front of the bed so that he wasn't awkwardly balled up at his feet. Before Donnie could completely lay down, Mikey grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. Donnie hadn't been expecting that, and suddenly found himself sobbing on Mikey's shoulder.

Mikey rocked his distressed brother back and forth, while whispering the most soothing words that he could think of. Eventually, Donnie quieted and pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" he cried.

Michelangelo smiled. "You know it is. Let me go get your pillow and blanket. Just sit tight."

Mikey returned and got Donnie settled before sitting next to him and rubbing the undamaged portion of his back. "Was it a nightmare?" he asked gently.

"Kind of," Donnie murmured into the pillow. "I think it was more like a flashback, really."

The two remained quiet for a while, Mikey continuing to rub Donnie's shell while he recovered from his panic attack. "Can I tell you something?" Donnie finally whispered.

"Of course, you can. You can tell me anything."

Donnie shuddered beneath Mikey's hand, but he began to speak softly. "Where they kept me, my cell - it was kind of like a glass cage. I was all alone, but there were always people watching me from the outside. When I ate, when I slept, when I was tortured, when I was sick or hurt or distressed, there were always people watching with these cold, unsympathetic eyes. Even though I felt so utterly alone, I still had nowhere to hide... no privacy."

Donnie stopped to compose himself and focus upon Mikey's soothing. "I think that's why I can't be alone for long anymore. Whenever I am, I feel those eyes on me again. It's like I can't get away from them. I only feel better when you guys are here, like you can protect me somehow."

Mikey laid down next to Donnie and put his arm over his brother's shell. "We can protect you. I know that it doesn't feel that way right now, but you are safe here."

Donnie turned his tear-soaked face to his brother. "I know, but it's like my heart and my brain won't get on the same page. The logical part of me knows that I'm safe now, but the emotional part of me doesn't accept it. It's like I'm being pulled apart."

"It'll get better, Don. I promise you. It's just going to take time."

"Yeah. I keep telling myself that. Seems like these anxiety attacks are just going to be something that I have to deal with in the meantime."

"You don't have to do it alone though. We're all here for you, to help you through. No one's an expert, but we're doing our best. We all love you so much, Donnie."

Donnie wiped away a few of the tears that had begun running down his face again. "You've grown up, Mikey."

"It's about time somebody noticed," Mikey said with a grin.

When Michelangelo was a child, he had often been frightened by Leonardo and Raphael's arguments and jostling for position. It was usually Donatello that he went to with his problems. Donnie was such a kind and gentle soul, and he always took time to listen to Mikey's troubles and reassure him or help however he could. Even as they grew older and the world changed around them, Donnie had been a constant - someone that he could lean on and trust, someone that he could confide in without fear of judgement. Mikey had assumed that the others felt the same way. He was certain that Raph always went to Donnie with his problems as well. He had sure as heck never came to Leo or Mikey.

After Donnie disappeared, Michelangelo had tried to fill the void as best he could. Everyone was so upset all the time, and so desperate for information. The arguments and hurt feelings seemed like they would never end. Unfortunately, the person who was best at calming everyone down was the very person that was no longer there. Mikey tried to be more like Donnie had been; more mature and empathetic, kinder and more understanding. His family had been so wrapped up in their own problems and their own desperate search that they hadn't noticed how Mikey had grown. Even when he reached out to them and tried to comfort them, they just dismissed it. It felt good that someone finally noticed how he had changed. As much as Donnie's current suffering broke Mikey's heart, it also felt pretty good to be the one who was there to comfort him when he really needed it.

"I love you too, you know," Donnie said. He sounded like he was getting sleepy at last. "I love all of you guys so much."

"We know." Michelangelo smiled as a thought came to him. "Hey, Donnie," he whispered.

"Hmmm?" came the groggy response.

"Tell me some facts about New Jersey,"

Donnie grinned blearily, thinking back to that scene in the dumpster, just before everything went so wrong. "Well," he yawned, "Thomas Edison's lab was there. It's called Menlo Park. And, all the properties on the monopoly board are named after streets in Atlantic City."

"Really?"

"Yup." Donnie yawned again and snuggled closer to Mikey.

"I always thought they were just randomly chosen names," Mikey pondered.

"No," Donnie breathed. He said it so softly that Mikey wouldn't have heard it if Donnie wasn't practically glued to his side.

"It's a pretty great state, isn't it, Donnie?"

"Yeah... beaches…. diners…... museums." The pauses between words grew longer and longer.

"We should go someday. A bro-trip. Just you and me."

"Yeah," Donnie smiled, opening his eyes just a sliver, pleased to catch a glimpse of his brother's honest face. "Let's go." Donatello fell asleep right after the words left his lips, warm and cozy against Michelangelo's side. The rest of the night, his dreams were filled with bluffs and boardwalks and meadows that seemed to stretch on forever. The nightmares he had suffered faded far into the distance, until they were forgotten entirely. It was the best he had slept in weeks.

* * *

 **I know this is rather reminiscent of the chapter with Raphael a few weeks ago, but I'm a sucker for turtle slumber parties, and I wanted a chapter for each of Donnie's brothers. As always, thank you for reading!**


	38. Chapter 38

Everyone knew that Donatello had been suffering from debilitating anxiety attacks, nightmares and insomnia. It seemed that his mental condition was deteriorating even as his physical condition improved. Despite his family's attempts to help him, he avoided discussing it whenever possible, just as he avoided discussing his imprisonment. Little bits and pieces slipped out in moments of desperation, but that was all.

Leonardo was religious about their joint meditation sessions, but no matter how hard he tried, Donnie refused to open up to him. Leo was beginning to take it personally. He had always been the type to take things to heart, and he knew all about Donnie's late-night confessions to Michelangelo, and his impromptu therapy sessions with Raphael in the garage. It was difficult for Leo to try so hard and to see so little progress on a personal level.

To complicate matters, Leo had received some interesting information from the tracking device that Raphael had planted on the nefarious black sedan. According to the tracker's data log, the vehicle had made a couple of late-night visits to Auman Chemicals. Furthermore, there was no indication that the FBI had any operations at that location. It seemed that Donnie's theory that his rescue had been faked was correct. Not only that, but the suspicious activity seemed to indicate that their mysterious enemies were still operating out of Auman in some capacity.

A threat was clearly out there, and it was Leonardo's job to keep this family safe, no matter how unpleasant that role may be at times. Since Donnie was still refusing to talk, Leo decided to put it all on the table himself. He hadn't wanted to admit just how little he was able to learn about Donatello's disappearance, but if he expected Donnie to open up, he knew that it would have to go both ways. Leo hoped that if Donnie understood how little the turtles knew, he would feel more compelled to fill in some of the details himself. Leo called a family meeting, and mentally prepared himself for it to go terribly. One way or the other, he was confident that it would be awful.

After spending some time psyching himself up, Leo strode confidently into the living room, looking every bit the firm, no-nonsense leader that he was. While he may have looked the role, he certainly didn't feel it. He felt lost, nervous, and sick to his stomach.

"Uh-oh," Mikey sang, "the boss is here."

Leo couldn't help but notice that Donnie was sitting on the sofa, squeezed between Raphael and Michelangelo. He had his bad leg propped up on a pillow and he already seemed to be cowering. This was exactly what Leo didn't want. He hadn't even started talking, and he was already being set up to play the bully picking on a defenseless and deeply-wounded victim.

"Come on," Leo groaned. "It's not like that. We're just going to talk."

Splinter spoke up from his spot on the chair. "Yes, and the time to talk is long overdue. I think we can all agree that protection of this family is our first priority. Therefore, I concur with Leonardo that a frank discussion of everything that has happened and everything that we can expect to happen is very much needed."

Surprisingly, it was Donnie that spoke next. "If protection of this family is the top priority, let's make it a point to get the security system back online," he said in a small voice, clearly hoping to divert the conversation that he'd been avoiding for over a month.

Leo recognized the sidetracking attempt for what it was and cut it off at the head. "Yes, we will do that. Why don't you write up a plan and list of supplies? Raphael and I will find whatever parts are needed and then make the repairs right away."

"Okay," Donnie murmured. He had little recourse but to agree.

"So, Donnie, I guess I should start off by confessing something to you. I…" Leo cleared his throat. "We... We never figured out who took you. I'm sorry, Don. I've been hoping that you'd bring it up yourself, so that I wouldn't have to admit that to you. I'm sure that it hurts you to know just how far from rescue you really were."

Donnie shook his head sadly, but he didn't seem at all surprised or angry at Leonardo's revelation. "Do you think it would hurt any less to know that I was _close_ to being rescued?" he asked in a wavering voice. "In the end it doesn't matter. Four years is four years."

"Still," Leo said. "I'm so sorry. We're so sorry that we failed you like that."

"Please don't tell me that you're still beating yourself up over this," Donnie begged. "How many times do I have to tell you guys that it wasn't your fault? None of this was anyone's fault."

"Then who is to blame?" Raphael demanded. "That's what we're trying to ask you, Donnie. We need to know who had you, because we...we never even figured that much out, and someone's gotta pay."

When Donnie didn't answer right away, Leo stepped in again. "Maybe it would be helpful if we told you why we can't keep pushing off this conversation. The thing is, a year and a half or so after your kidnapping, we started noticing people following us."

Donnie shrank down in his seat, wriggling uncomfortably. Leo noticed, but continued talking. "For a long time, all they did was follow, but then we decided to force a confrontation and figure out who they were. It turns out that many of them were former Foot."

Donnie blanched a little at this.

"After we confronted them," Leo continued, "they were no longer content simply to follow. They began shooting at us. The rooftops became unsafe. We had to spend more time in hiding."

"They shot at you?" Donatello repeated in horror.

Leo sat down on the coffee table and put a hand on his brother's braced knee. "Yes, they did. Do you think that this could be connected to what happened to you? Because one of the cars that used to stalk us was once owned by Peterman Transit. As you may recall, they also owned the truck that exploded on the night of your disappearance."

"Peterman," Donnie whispered. He'd never forgotten that name.

"Yes," Leo nodded. "And the other night during patrol we were able to plant a tracking device on one of the vehicles. It turns out that the car we placed it on spent a few late-night hours parked near the same building that you escaped from. The facility is owned by Auman Chemical, and for what it's worth, there's absolutely no evidence that the FBI has any connection to that place."

Donnie gasped and curled himself into Raph's side. "They were after you," Donnie moaned. "I knew they were. I'm sorry, guys. They wanted to use you so that they could break me. But now that we're here and together, we should be safe. They never found you here. It's safe here." Donatello shook and his voice quaked. It was almost like he was chanting some sort of incantation.

"Don't freak out, Donnie," Mikey soothed. "We _are_ safe. They never got to us."

"But shooting? They were shooting at you? It should've never come to that. I should've… I should've just given up and found a way to… to end things," Donnie moaned.

"End things?" Raphael repeated. "You don't mean…" Raphael trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

"If it would've kept you safe, I should've!" Donnie yelled.

"But we _are_ safe," Mikey emphasized once more. "So, it's sure as shell good that you didn't do anything rash."

Donnie seemed to calm down a little at that. Leo hated to risk upsetting him again, but he had to. "We may be safe now, but we can't stay locked up down here forever. Remember, this all started in an arms deal. These guys are dangerous. They know about us, and they wanted to use you, Donnie. They probably still do. So as much as you don't want to, you need to start telling us everything that you know. We need to figure out a way to neutralize whatever threat these guys might pose." With that, all eyes turned to Donnie expectantly.

"I don't really know much, though," Donnie whispered.

"Why don't you start by telling us who had you?" Raphael coaxed.

Donnie closed his eyes. "I honestly don't know who it was."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, but no one looked away from Donnie. They knew that there had to be more that he could offer. Donnie gathered himself and continued. "But… he claimed to be the new Shredder."

"Shredder!" Mikey gasped. "We should've know that Ch'rell wouldn't stay gone."

"It wasn't Ch'rell," Donnie insisted. "It was a human. He had green eyes, and a strange, subtle accent. But, that's really all I know. He wasn't around all the time, and I could never make out much else through the armor."

"He had Shredder's armor?! So, you were with the Foot!" Raphael barked. "We should've known better than to believe that Karai was capable of setting those guys straight."

"I don't know," Donnie moaned. "I was never truly convinced that it was the Foot."

"Why not?" Leo asked, hoping to calm things down. As much as they'd defeated several versions of him, nothing made the turtles panic quite like the Shredder.

"Something was just...off," Donatello explained. "The armor wasn't quite right. The guards' uniforms were slightly different. It just never really seemed like the Foot to me. More like… an imitation."

"So, who do you think it was, then?" Mikey asked.

"I don't know," Donnie repeated. "Maybe this thing about former Foot soldiers makes sense. A lot of them were unhappy when Karai took over. Maybe they organized themselves?"

"Was there ever any mention of Karai?" Leo asked.

"Karai was only mentioned when I brought her up, and believe me, I paid dearly every time I did," Donnie answered with a cringe.

"So, you don't think she's involved, then?" Leo asked. Donnie didn't answer right away, so Leo continued pressing. "It's important that we know for sure, because we've trusted her. She helped us try to find you, and she even helped us try to figure out who our stalkers were. If we can't trust her, we need to know now." Leo tightened his grip on Donnie's knee and leaned forward. "She knows that we live in the sewers, Donnie. She's found us before."

"I don't know," Donnie said once more. After everything that he'd been through, his inclination was to trust no one. He was beginning to yearn to simply leave earth entirely. Find a small planet to hide away on, just the five of them. He didn't want to deal with this. He just wanted to feel safe and protected for once in his life. Was that too much to ask?

"What else can you tell us?" Splinter calmly interjected. "There must be other details that could help us to make sense of this."

"I... I don't know. Nothing comes to mind." Donnie was sure that he had never said "I don't know" as many times over the course of his life as he had in the past ten minutes. He hated the sound of those words leaving his lips. He had always been the answer turtle. But now, it seemed that he could offer nothing of value at all.

Leonardo brought a hand to his forehead. "How could you not know anything else? You were there for four years!" he lamented.

"I don't know, Leo, there was only so much that I could figure out from inside my cell, and it's not like they encouraged me to ask questions during the _nightly torture sessions!_ " Donnie practically shouted the last bit, some part of him hoping that everyone would be shocked into shutting up.

"Nightly torture sessions?" Mikey repeated in disbelief.

Leo would not be distracted or deterred. "But if they seemed to hate Karai, it's probably safe to say that this disgruntled Foot connection is something to go on, right?" he prodded. "There's nothing indicating otherwise, at least. Is that correct?"

"Probably," Donnie moaned.

Leo was getting heated. He knew that he should back down and let Splinter take over, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. His fear that he had left his family vulnerable by trusting Karai was pushing him over the edge. "Probably?" he cried. "That's the best you can do?"

"Clearly there's a lot about these guys that we don't know." Donnie attempted to control his breathing and calm down, but his trembling hands betrayed his true emotions. "Probably is as far as I'm willing to go if everyone's safety is hanging on what I have to say!"

"Probably is not good enough!" Leo yelled. "There must have been clues, Don. You're the most perceptive person that I know. There must be something else that would have given you some idea of who these guys are!"

Donatello finally snapped, his exhaustion, and the terror of having to relive memories that he was desperately trying to forget getting the better of him. "Why is this all on me?! I was in a freaking prison, where I was drugged-up, tortured, and crippled, but you still expect me to have all the answers? How much did you figure out during the past four years?" Donnie brandished his manacle-scarred wrists in front of him like weapons. "Oh, that's right, nothing!" he spat. "At least noting that ever did me a damn bit of good!"

Leo briefly looked shattered, before his face lost all trace of emotion and he turned on his heels, heading for the door. Too late, Donnie realized what he had done. "Wait!" he bellowed.

Donnie struggled to his feet and followed Leo as quickly as he could, leaving a shocked Raphael and Michelangelo on the sofa with their mouths agape. "I didn't mean it!" Donatello yelled at his brother's back. Leo exited to the sewer and took off at a run. Donnie moved as if to follow until Splinter's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Donatello, let him go."

"I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out!" Now it was Donatello who looked shattered, but in his case it was more than just a fleeting look.

"I know, my son. Leonardo will be fine after he cools off, but you really hit him where it hurts. Perhaps you would be well-served to meditate upon why you said what you did, and how best to make amends with your brother upon his return."

"Yes, father," Donatello said, bowing his head.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for continuing to support this story. I really do appreciate every comment, favorite, follow, and even simple page views. See you next week!**


	39. Chapter 39

As Splinter suggested, Donatello spent the next few hours thinking about what he had said, how he had acted, and his overall behavior since he had come home. His unfortunate conclusion was that he had been rather selfish. He had allowed the others to dote on him, to feed him, to comfort him, and to support him. He'd needed all of that so badly after the utter devastation that he had been through. Anybody would have needed it.

His family had put their lives on hold for him, but what had Donatello done to repay their kindness and generosity? All he had offered in return were simple words - empty assurances that his kidnapping and subsequent torment wasn't their fault, and that he didn't blame them for anything. He never asked his family how they were doing, or what they were going through. He never asked what they needed from him. Donatello understood why Leonardo wanted more information, and he knew how hard it must have been for Leo to admit how little he knew, and to gather the courage to request help. Leo had been more than patient in waiting for Donnie to be ready to talk. He'd held his tongue and waited for over a month, only for Donatello to lash out anyway.

When he really thought about it, Donatello hadn't been all that good of a brother since he got back. Maybe he had never been a good brother at all - too much time in the lab, too much time with his snout in a computer, not enough time actively engaging with his family. He'd thought he'd learned a lesson about not isolating himself, but in truth, his problem was worse than ever. Physically, he had attached himself at the hip to his family members, but emotionally, he was completely closed off. He'd done it to prevent them from seeing his suffering, but it had also prevented him from helping them through their own. He shouldn't have expected his mere presence to be a cure-all for wounds as deep as theirs.

It was very late when Leo finally came home. He moved silently, clearly not wanting to be heard. For once, Donatello's chronic insomnia was a blessing. He was hyper aware of even the subtlest of noises. Donnie gave Leo a few minutes to get cleaned up and settled in before heading to his brother's bedroom.

"Leo," Donnie whispered as he tapped lightly on the door. "Can I come in?" There was no answer, but Donnie persisted. "Leo, I know that you're in there. Please let me explain."

"Fine. Come on in," Leonardo said in a neutral voice.

As soon as Donnie crossed the threshold, Leo held up a hand. "Before you say anything, Don. I want to apologize for taking off like that. It was weak and cowardly and pathetic. I should have stayed and heard what you had to say. It's an issue that needs to be confronted."

"No, Leo," Donnie whispered from the doorway. "I was being a jerk. I had no right to say what I did."

Leonardo's face crumpled. "Yes, you did, and it was all true. We did fail. We had no idea what was going on. We never found you. We never even found any clues. It was unfair of me to hold you to a higher standard, especially given the circumstances."

"We don't need to talk about that part anymore," Donatello promised. "What's important is that you truly understand that what happened to me wasn't your fault. I really never did blame you, and I hate that you blamed yourself."

Leo shook his head. "Deep down, we both know that's not true. Otherwise you never would have said what you did."

"No!" Donnie exclaimed, "I only said that because I was scared. I didn't want to talk, and I wasn't in control of my emotions." Leo didn't respond. He just looked into Donnie's eyes, gauging them from his spot on the bed. Donnie sighed, shifting the weight from his bad leg and leaning heavily against the doorframe.

When Leo still said nothing, Donnie continued. "Leo, I had nothing to do but think while I was in there. I thought about you guys constantly, about childhood memories, the sound of your laughter, what you might be doing now. And of course, I hoped that you'd come and save me. I daydreamed about it all the time. If I didn't keep that hope alive I would have broken." Donatello leaned forward. "But, here's the thing, as bad as things got, as often as I thought of you, never once did I blame you. Never once!"

Leo still had nothing to say, but his eyes softened. He looked sad, or tired. Donnie couldn't tell which. Donnie hobbled to Leo's bed and levered himself the floor beside it, crossing his arms on Leo's mattress and resting his chin atop them.

"I feel like you don't believe me," Donnie breathed before continuing. "The truth is, if my capture was anyone's fault it was my own. I should've listened to you about getting too hung up on trying to trace that signal. If I'd slept better the night before I might not have been so sloppy. Then I got distracted by my own incessant need to research every detail of the warehouse and trucking company right away instead of paying attention to what was going on directly in front of me. I should've checked the dumpster. Then I might've found the magnets and gas feed in time. That was my job, Leo, and I didn't do it. And then I got locked in and hesitated to call for you guys because of my own stupid pride. If I had just called for help sooner, maybe you could've gotten me out in time. Those were all my mistakes, not yours."

"Coulda, shoulda woulda," Leo sighed, finally breaking his silence. "I'm certainly familiar with that game."

"My guess is we've both been playing it for years," Donnie smiled, happy that his brother was showing signs of opening up.

"Yes," Leo continued, "And it all sounds pretty silly when you say it out loud, doesn't it? How could you blame yourself, Don?"

"I just told you how. Now you tell me how it is that you've been blaming yourself."

"It's simple really," Leo shrugged. "I was the leader who lost a team member. It was my job to keep you safe, but I left you for dead. And now, here you are."

Donatello made sure to look deep into Leonardo's eyes when he delivered the next words. "You didn't leave me for dead. You guys searched heaven and earth for me even though all the evidence said that I died in that fire."

"I was the one who ordered Raph to drive away from the warehouse. He and Mikey didn't want to! It's all on me, Donnie. All of it!"

"But you were right to give that order, Leo! As far as I know, I was gone before the explosion hit. I wasn't there to find, and if you'd stayed there looking for me, everyone would've been caught. That would've been the real tragedy."

Leo blinked in disbelief. "What happened _was_ a real tragedy. You lost almost four years of your life, and you have no idea what it was like for us. I know that I shouldn't compare our suffering to yours when what you went through was so much worse, but - "

"Please stop saying that," Donnie interrupted. "There's nothing worse than losing a loved one, especially when you're as close as we all were. Fearing that you guys were dead was the worst part of what I went through by far."

"But unlike you, I eventually gave up," Leonardo growled. "I let myself believe that you must be dead, because it became the easiest thing to do, rather than continue a hopeless search and be met with failure at every turn. I can never forgive myself for that. Because here you are, right in front of me. And I did nothing at all to help you get here. Nothing at all."

"And that's really the problem, isn't it, Leo?" Donatello wondered. "You're so hung up on the fact that it wasn't you who saved me, that you can't just let yourself be happy that I'm home. All that you see when you look at me is a bunch of scars and your own guilty conscience. You don't even see a brother anymore, do you?" Donnie didn't say it with anger. It came from a place of infinite sadness. That might just have been worse, because it cut Leo to the core. It hurt even more because was it was partially true.

Leo made a gasping noise and took a few moments to compose himself before speaking. "It's not so much that I don't see you, it's more that I feel like I'm looking at the ghost of you. If I'm being honest, this all just seems too good to be true. It's all so surreal that my mind doesn't want to accept it. You just show up one day out of nowhere having 'Donnie-ed' your way out of another jam. Sure, you're hurt and tired, but you don't need any help-"

"Stop saying that I don't need help!" Donnie interjected. "In case you hadn't noticed, I can't even sleep in my own bed without freaking out! I can hardly walk, and I'm a sobbing mess half the time. Does that sound like someone who doesn't need help?"

"Maybe it feels that way to you, but to me it looks like you're doing fine" Leo argued. "Better than any of the rest of us would in your place anyways."

"That may be what you want to believe, but it doesn't make it true," Donatello observed. "This unfounded guilt of yours is messing with your perception. You keep saying that I don't need your help, but I do. I need it badly, Leo. I need you to let go of this weight you've burdened yourself with. Stop getting hung up on things that can't be changed and just be my brother again."

Tears began to roll down Leo's face, but at the same time he reached down and pulled Donnie onto the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you, now or then. Can you ever forgive me, Don?"

"You've never abandoned me. In fact, if there was anyone who never stopped fighting for me, it was you. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive," Donatello comforted, his voice breaking with his own tears. "But if you need to hear me say it, then yes, I forgive you, Leo."

"Thanks," Leo's voice cracked. "I love you, Don. I can't even tell you how much I love you, and how much you were missed."

"Same here," came Don's breathy whisper. "And for what it's worth, I know that you would've done anything to find me. You boarded a Triceraton warship for me and made a deal with Bishop for me. The whole time I was gone, I knew that if there was anything that could be done, you'd be doing it."

"Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. And it's true too. I would've taken your place in a heartbeat," Leo whimpered into Donnie's shoulder.

"I know, but I never would've wanted you to," Donnie breathed as he nuzzled Leo's neck with his beak.

"At least it's over now. You're home to stay and we're going to be okay, right?"

"Right," Donnie paused before continuing. "And the thing about you looking through me, not seeing me as a brother - Honestly, Leo, that's my fault. I realize now that while my body is here with you guys, my mind… Well, a big part of it is still somewhere else. I'm not letting you see all of me, but, I'll try to do better. I promise I'll try to stop hiding and I'll tell you everything that I can about what happened while I was gone."

Leo choked out a little laugh. "Sounds good, but not tonight, okay? I think that I've had about all that I can take for today!"

"Okay," Donnie agreed. "It _is_ getting pretty late. We can go over everything when we're both feeling sharper."

"You want to bunk in here tonight?" Leo offered.

"Well, yeah," Donnie smiled. "And if you want to talk to me, just go ahead and do that. I can listen too, you know."

Leo chuckled. "You always were good at that. I missed that about you, Don."

Finally, it was Donatello's turn to start giving back. It was his turn to be the strong one, while Leo unburdened his battered soul. Leo spoke long into the night about how hard it had been to recover. The guilt that came with attempting to move on, the difficulty of healing a fractured family, how everyone worried for the mental health of the others. Donatello simply held on and listened until Leo finally petered out.

When Michelangelo and Raphael went looking for Leo and Donnie the next morning, they found the two virtually plastered together, still fast asleep atop Leo's bed. Leo was sleeping on his side with both arms wrapped around his brother, while Donnie used one of his biceps for a pillow. Leo had partially tipped over in his slumber, leaving Donnie's face comically smooshed against his plastron. It should have been uncomfortable, but they were conveying nothing but peace. The four would look back and remember this as the day that they finally turned the corner.

* * *

 **Thanks for reviewing!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer - I do not own TMNT. Also, this chapter is pretty long. I thought about breaking it up into two, but if I'm being honest, I can't believe this thing has hit 40 chapters. If you'd asked me at the beginning, I would have guessed it would have ended around 30. Now I'm concerned that it might exceed 50. Anyway, the takeaway is that just like this author's note, this chapter is long! I hope that you enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

Donatello was doing a lot better these days. Mikey's plan to fatten him up was progressing nicely, and ever since he and Leonardo had their little heart to heart, he'd been sleeping better and looking less ragged. Leo had been noticeably happier as well, and everybody else was basking in the glow. The Lair felt lighter and brighter than it had in years. The family was hanging out after the morning practice session, spending time together before beginning their individual daily routines.

"How would you guys feel about operating on my back?" Donnie asked out of nowhere. The question caught everyone off guard.

Splinter was the first to regain himself and speak. "Do you feel that you are ready for that, Donatello?"

"Yeah. I feel stronger, physically and mentally. I think that I could handle it now."

"I don't know, Don. Don't you think it's kind of risky?" Raph grumbled.

"Maybe a little," Donnie conceded. "But, I think April and I have put together the beginning of a good plan, and I know you guys would be super careful."

"You kind of seem like you made up your mind already," Leo observed.

Donatello hummed. "Not exactly. You guys would be the ones operating. I wouldn't ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Don't worry about that part," Leo advised. "We'll do whatever we can for you, Don."

"The way it is now is… uncomfortable, and it really hinders my movement. If I want a fighting chance of feeling normal again, it needs to get fixed. Might as well do it now and get it over with, right?"

"Like now, now?" asked Mikey.

"Of course not," Donnie smiled, "but if you guys are really up for this, then I can start making a list of supplies."

"What about your leg?" Raph wondered. "It seems to be bothering you a lot more than your back."

Donnie's good mood seemed to darken and turn cold. "I don't have much hope for the leg. My back is fixable, though. I'd rather keep the focus there."

Raph threw his hands up. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. Forget I asked."

Donnie shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever spell had come over him. "Sorry. Sore subject," he apologized.

"Let's go for it, guys," Leo decided. As much as the thought of surgery creeped everyone out, it was good to see Donnie with a sense of hope for something better. Donnie hadn't set any real goals since his return and spent most of his time simply sitting around. While he had repaired some items and tinkered in the garage a bit, he hadn't been engineering or designing anything new. Now he almost had that old, familiar fire in his eyes again. Maybe all that he needed was a good project to focus on, even if that project was decidedly unpleasant.

* * *

Days later, Donatello produced a color-coded list of needed items. Code red was for critical items that could not be found or created by the turtles, and therefore needed to be obtained by April. Most of the red category consisted of things like medications and anesthesia supplies. Code green was items that Donnie thought should be easily acquired during a search of local junkyards. Green items were primarily specific tools, and certain-sized brackets, screws and plastic tubing.

"What's code yellow?" Raphael asked. The yellow list was rather eclectic and was the hardest to make sense of.

"Items that are likely already found in my lab," Donnie explained, with a meaningful look. All eyes wandered over to the locked door, and then a smile arose on more than one face.

"So, who is going to do the honors?" Michelangelo asked.

"Seems like that ought to be Donnie," Leo offered. "After all, It's his lab."

"I don't know," Donnie considered, his voice conveying a thoughtful tone with a touch of playfulness. "It wasn't me that locked it."

"It was Leo who locked it," Raphael explained. "I understood why, but there was a lot of useful stuff in there that I would have liked to get my hands on first."

The brothers looked to Splinter, who thought for a moment. "I don't know why this can't be a team exercise," he decided. Over the years, the locked door had become symbolic to the family, and having a hand in opening it would mean a lot to each of them.

Raph dutifully fetched a spike and hammer from the garage and everyone took their turn. Of course, Leo had the key to the lock stashed away somewhere, but destroying it seemed so much more fitting. While any of them, except perhaps Donnie, was strong enough to break the lock in one fell swoop, they each went lightly until Donnie took the final turn. He cracked the lock off with a satisfying snap and it clattered to the floor at his feet.

Donnie pushed the creaky door open and took a careful step over the threshold. The three turtles that followed him had a sense of wonder in walking into the lab again. Each of them had considered this hallowed ground, but now it was time for the long-dormant machinery to come to life once more.

It was Michelangelo's voice that eventually broke through the silence. "Hey, Donnie. For years I wondered - what's that?" Mikey was pointing to a pile of disparate parts laying on one of the work tables. A socket wrench lay beside it, exactly where Donatello had left it.

"Oh, that?" Donnie replied with a crooked smile and a twinkle in his eye. "It was going to be your birthday gift, but I suppose it's quite belated now."

"I'll still take it," Mikey blurted with excitement. "Uh, what does it do?"

"Nothing yet," Donnie laughed. "Your birthday was a full month away when I was taken, remember? I'd barely even gotten a chance to start working on it."

"Well, what's was it going to be, then?" Mikey asked.

Donatello raised an eye ridge. He went to stand next to Mikey and considered the seemingly unrelated items in front of them. "Do you really want to know? Wouldn't it be better if it was a surprise?"

"If you tell me now, I'll pretend to be surprised," Mikey compromised.

"Well, back then, the plan was to build you a hoverboard," Donnie replied in an unsure voice.

"A hoverboard! That would be so awesome!" Mikey exclaimed.

"I don't know," Donnie hesitated. "I was never sure that I could pull it off to begin with, and my skills aren't what they used to be. No promises, okay?"

Mikey nodded, looking just as happy as before. His chances of obtaining a hoverboard had just gone from practically nonexistent to remotely possible. Anything was an improvement.

"First things first," Leo advised. "Let's get Donnie's back fixed up before we give him any projects."

The next few hours were spent rummaging through drawers and shelving units and refining the lists that Donnie already had going. The next step would be the junkyard, which would be Donnie's first time out in the open since his return home. The thought was a little nerve-wracking, so Leo decided to call in Casey for extra protection. After further consideration, he also called someone else.

* * *

Donatello sat in the open hatch of the SUV next to Casey while his brothers foraged for parts under the moonlight. When they found something potentially useful, they would bring it to Donnie for inspection. It felt a lot like old times. The temperature was perfect for turtles, and there was just the right amount of moisture in the air. Springtime in the city always did have a certain magic to it.

After an hour, Casey was getting restless and a sizable pile was building up in the trunk. It was decidedly larger than originally intended, as Donnie had a tough time passing up certain items that he didn't necessarily need. When a soft knocking noise sounded, Donnie at first assumed that the pile was settling, but then he heard a feminine "Hello, Donatello."

"Karai!" Donnie and Casey sputtered in surprise.

"It's okay," Leo called from nearby. "I asked her to come."

Donnie felt a little flustered. He'd never had many human friends, and he was never fully sure that he could count Karai amongst them. Nevertheless, she seemed happy to see him, and even leaned in for an awkward hug. "You are looking better than I would have expected," she said into Donatello's shoulder.

"Thanks, I guess," Donnie replied.

Leo dismissed Casey to help the others forage and took his place on the tailgate next to Donatello. Karai was content to stand in front of them. "I gather that the two of you have some questions for me," Karai began.

"Yeaaah," Leo drawled. "Let me start by saying that I'm sorry to surprise you, Don. I figured that you might be nervous to know that Karai was coming, so I thought it was better this way." Leo looked up at the night sky in contemplation. "I've given it a lot of thought, and I trust her. She has seen us at our weakest and offered only help. I think that now that you're back, she might be able to help us even more."

"It's okay," Donnie said. "I get it. Um, how are you Karai?"

Karai had been patiently waiting while Leonardo talked about her right in front of her, and Casey, Raphael and Michelangelo's eyes bored holes into her back. As Shredder's daughter, she'd dealt with worse, and answered civilly. "Very well, very busy. I would ask the same of you, but -"

"We both know how I've been, but I'm doing better now," Donnie smiled.

Donatello was glad that Leonardo hadn't given him any warning about this. Donnie was 99% sure that Karai had nothing to do with his kidnapping, and if anything, the Pseudo-Shredder was a mutual enemy. Still, his captor had punished Donnie so severely for ever mentioning Karai, that he associated her with torture. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, the very idea of her had a physical effect on him, and not a pleasant one. While it wasn't Karai's fault, Donnie felt his happy mood souring. If he'd known she'd be here, he might not have gathered the courage to leave home at all.

Leo told Karai everything that he knew about Donatello's capture, to spare his brother from having to do so himself. It was hard for Donatello to sit and listen as the horrible story unfolded. Karai, for her part, maintained a poker face.

"Disgruntled Foot, eh?" Karai summarized after Leo wrapped up the story.

"It's the best we've got to go on," Leo stated. "And it makes sense, given how many of the people that were following us also turned out to be former soldiers of yours."

Donatello was turning a hunk of metal around in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes. Leo put a hand on him to bring him back down to earth, causing the traumatized turtle to jump. Donnie gasped, and his eyes darted about before he regained himself.

"Can you tell me anything else about this fake Shredder?" Karai asked.

"Nothing that Leo didn't already explain," Donnie muttered. "All we really have to go on is the green eyes and the accent. He was average height. I couldn't say how old he was. He was pretty strong, but I couldn't tell you much about his build…"

"Average height, green eyes and an Asian accent doesn't narrow things down very much," Karai frowned.

"It was a weird accent, though," Donnie defended. "I'd consider it to be distinctive."

"What about the armor? Could that be something?" Leo asked. "How many people could copy Shredder's armor with any decent degree of detail?"

Karai shook her head. "Many members of the Foot saw him in armor often. I don't think that will help."

"Sorry, but I have to ask. Was the Foot involved in any arms dealing around the time of Donnie's disappearance?" Leo inquired. This made both Donnie and Karai sit up straighter.

Karai gathered herself before answering. "I have tried to bring honor to the Foot, but we are, by nature… not a legal operation. Arms dealing has never been off the table. But, Leonardo, you know full well that we were not involved in the transaction that took place on the night that Donatello was abducted. So, what exactly are you asking me?"

"I know you have a certain code of honor, but can you give me any leads about who else may have been dealing in arms back then? Presumably, they would be enemies of yours, and a lot of your former soldiers would have worked for them. And if there were ties to Auman Chemicals or Peterman Transport, that would be the real smoking gun," Leonardo said hopefully.

"I will have to do some investigating. This does not set off any alarms, but I am more than familiar with the criminal element of this city. I will see what I can do for you," Karai promised. "But there is something more that I believe we should consider."

"What's that?" Leo asked.

"I recall you asking me about the Foot Mystics, and your fears about a spiritual block, but I can clearly see Donatello now, both in body and in spirit."

A small shiver ran through Donnie, knowing that Karai was examining him so closely. While he leaned strongly towards trusting her, he felt uncomfortably exposed.

"I wonder about something," Karai continued. "Several years ago, I discovered that there was a certain object in Saki Tower that my father used to keep others from seeing him on the spiritual plane. He used it to hide his thoughts and intentions from those who would do him harm. This item was so powerful that it even worked on the Foot Mystics themselves."

"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Leo gasped. "This sounds like exactly the sort of thing we were looking for!"

"Because by the time I found out about it, Donatello had long since been given up for dead. Not only that, but as far as I know, it is a one of a kind item, and it has never left my vault. Its range is not infinite - only a city block or so at most. Donatello would have to have been located within the tower itself for it to work on him, and I knew that he could not be there."

"I asked you about spiritual blocks, you said you knew nothing," Leo growled. Donnie cringed, and the others dropped what they were doing and ran to the SUV.

"Calm down, Leo," Donnie warned. "Let her speak. She must be telling us now for a reason."

Leo shook his head back and forth in an effort to regain himself. When he was done, he couldn't help but smile a little, reminded of all the times his peaceful brother had begged him to stand down in battle. He took a breath. "Go on…"

"As I said, I learned of this item's powers only recently. While I was led to believe that it was one of a kind, perhaps it is not as unique as I first believed. I will look into this on your behalf."

Leo gave a reluctant nod. "Thank you, then."

Karai brushed herself off and began to leave. She then surprised everyone by leaning in to hug Donatello again, much more warmly this time. "Welcome home," Karai grinned. "You were very missed."

"Uh, th-thanks," a befuddled Donatello stuttered. Things had indeed changed.

* * *

The day had started off so nicely, but that night, Donnie holed himself up in his room for a while, purportedly working on his surgical plans. When he didn't show up for dinner, the family became concerned. They didn't want the Donatello of old coming back - the one who sealed himself in his lab when working on a problem, who skipped meals, movie nights and sleep. It didn't seem that Donnie wanted that either. Leonardo, hoping to reinforce the newfound peace between them, volunteered to go check in with his brother.

Donnie's door was ajar, but the lights were off and at first, it seemed silent. For a moment Leo panicked as an old nightmare rose. Then a broken voice was heard from the corner.

"Hey."

Donnie was sitting quietly on the floor, in the dark. Leo could see the glisten of tears on his brother's face, and the stark white of a tissue in his olive-green hand. Leo's heart dropped as he closed to door and crossed the room to sit next to Donnie. He slung an arm across his brother's shoulders but didn't ask what was wrong. They just sat together in silence.

Donnie didn't bother trying to staunch his tears. The way he saw it, he could either try to hide what he was feeling, or just be open about it. Growing up, he hadn't been an outwardly emotional turtle. But now, he'd had enough of hiding away and suffering alone. All those years imprisoned, what he longed for most was someone who loved him to hold him and be there for him. He had no reason to hide away now.

"Do you want to talk about it, Don?" Leo asked gently, when he felt it was time. "It's okay if you don't…. or if you do."

Donnie didn't want to talk about it, but he also didn't want to keep closing himself off. After all, he had promised Leo that he would try to do better. He heaved a sigh before reluctantly speaking.

"It's just...I was getting some work done, but seeing Karai today was so strange for me, and I really do hate having to talk about Pseudo-Shredder. Plus, this thing with my back is so unpleasant, and surgery freaks me out. To distract myself, I started reminiscing about that drinking game Mikey had us play a while back. But then l just got hung up wondering about all that stuff I missed."

Leo frowned. "Oh, Don. Maybe we shouldn't have-"

"No. I'm glad we did," Donnie quickly filled in. "I wanted to hear it. It's just… You guys did all that amazing stuff, and that whole time, I was in the same place, laying there with a broken back, a broken leg, whatever. I missed all of it. All those years are gone, all those potential memories. They were stolen from me. I did nothing in that time, other than accumulate these wounds."

"I know. And, I'm sorry. I wish there was more that I could say or do. There's nothing I wouldn't do to fix it for you, Donnie. And those times, they weren't so great, really. We were missing you, always."

Don cried a little harder, but he also leaned against Leo a little more. "Don't say that."

"What? It's true," Leo promised.

"Maybe so, but...but it only makes things worse."

"Why would that be?" Leo asked

Donnie sniffled. "Because it's bad enough that my happiness was stolen. I'd have rather you guys be happy than suffering."

Leo sighed. "I get it. As you know, there were happy times too. We got better through the years. So will you."

"That's good, really. I just wonder, what would I be like? What would I have done with all that time? Would I have found someone to love? Perfected time-travel? Charted new galaxies? Cured cancer?" Donnie pondered.

"I don't know," Leo said, simply.

Donnie wiped away a tear and chuckled a little. "Isn't it funny that the first scenario is probably the least realistic in my case?"

"A little," Leo answered. "But hey, there's still plenty of time...for all of it."

"I don't know. I'm not sure how to do anything anymore. I used to be so good at finding inspiration, figuring out how to get things done. But now…."

"What?" Leo urged, After Donnie grew quiet.

"When I'm alone, I'm just….my mind goes back there, you know?"

"Is that why you're on the floor?"

"Kind of. I thought maybe if I let myself feel it, I might be able to get past it. Does that even make sense?" Donnie asked

"I think it does," Leo replied.

Donnie sniffled. "It was always bright there. And the walls, they were clear. I was always watched by six people, stationed there, there, and there." Leo watched intently as Donatello pointed out the locations of the imaginary guards. Donnie took a breath and continued. "So, I tried to stay in the corner. If I angled myself this way, no one was in my direct line of sight."

Leo looked across the room to the opposite corner, trying to imagine what it must've been like. Given how they grew up, it must have been so hard. They were used to the darkness and going unseen except by each other. To be on display like that, constantly - the thought was awful.

Donnie sighed, and his chest heaved. Leo pulled him down a little, so that he could rub his shell. The damage there was so disturbing. All of it was.

"I don't know who I am anymore. I'm not a ninja, or even a fighter. I can't seem to invent. Where does that leave me?" Donnie mourned.

"Give yourself time," Leo encouraged. "You'll figure it out. You're still the smartest guy I know."

"I'm trying, Leo. I really am. I know it doesn't look that way, but I'm trying so hard. I just can't… I can't figure out how to… I don't know... I can't figure out how to figure it out."

Leo pulled Donnie into his plastron, placing his brother's ear over his own heart. "Then just stop trying so hard. Just let yourself be. Be right here, right now."

"Well, this is where I want to be," Donnie said. He reached a shaky arm up to pet Leo's shoulder. "Right here, specifically."

Leo rested his head on top of Donnie's. "Fine by me. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay here forever if you want me to."

Donnie heaved another sob, then kind of laughed. "Well that won't do. No need to waste your life on the floor of my imaginary prison. I might not be able to escape it, but you sure can."

"No way I'm going anywhere without you," Leo vowed.

"Okay," Donnie sighed as he pulled back and sat shoulder to shoulder with Leo. "So, if we're just going to sit here, would you mind helping me with my surgical plan? I really do want to get this whole thing over with."

"You bet I will. We probably shouldn't have let you try to figure things out on your own anyway. So, tell me where we stand," Leo offered.

"I've got a lot of stuff taken care of," Donnie said, perking up. "I think what I really need is help getting organized. My thoughts keep getting scattered."

For the rest of the evening, Leo and Donnie worked through the problems together. At some point they got up off the floor and moved to the computer. A little later, Michelangelo came in with Donnie's snack, and never left. A little while after that Raphael realized that everyone was gone and came to seek them out. By the end of the day, Donnie's bedroom didn't feel like a prison anymore.

 **As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for all your favorites, follows and reviews.**


	41. Chapter 41

If there was one thing that Donnie had learned and learned well, it was the importance of showing your love. Almost four full years of his life had been completely and utterly wasted. During that awful time, how often he had longed for the chance to have just a few more moments with his family? As much as he had loved working in the lab, it wasn't his half-finished inventions that haunted him. It was all the movie nights and family meals that he had missed, and all the words left unspoken for fear of embarrassment. Therefore, during the days before his surgery he stuck to his father and brothers like glue.

He wasn't really scared anymore, although the risk of paralysis or other complications was certainly there. A good plan was in place, and he was feeling fairly optimistic. His back hurt more than he cared to let on, and he was willing to take some chances if it meant there was hope of improvement. He was more than ready to get this over with, but he knew that having to cut him open wouldn't be easy on his brothers, and he knew that his recovery period would be difficult on everyone, himself included.

So, Donnie caught them in a hug whenever he crossed someone's path. He tapped into an old personal checking account that the others hadn't realized he had and purchased small gifts and items to spruce up their home. He repaired whatever he could around the Lair, doing his best to make up for years of absence. Slowly, it began to feel like his life held a purpose again, like something better was just around the corner.

* * *

It was the night before Donatello's surgery, and everyone decided to sleep together in the living room. Donnie was able to reliably sleep on his own in his bedroom now. This was just for fun, and to settle everybody's nerves. Donnie was fasting, since he didn't want food in his stomach prior to the operation. While the rest of them had eaten dinner, there hadn't been any snacking, out of solidarity. They watched a movie, followed by a documentary about the discovery of the Higgs Boson particle.

After the documentary was over, Donnie looked around and realized that everyone else appeared to have been put to sleep. He was too anxious to sleep himself, so instead he muted the TV and whispered, "Hey guys? Is anyone awake?"

Leonardo rolled over from where he had been lying next to Michelangelo on the floor. "I am. Two hours of physics talk almost did me in, though."

"Ha-ha. Me too," Raphael chimed in. He had been sharing the sofa with Donnie and was reclining on the other end.

Splinter spoke from his spot on the chair. "I am awake as well. Is something troubling you?"

"I know it's bad timing," Donnie said, "but I was just thinking that maybe I should tell you guys the whole story about what happened to me. You know, just in case I freak out over something tomorrow."

Leonardo sat up fully and elbowed Michelangelo. "What? Is it morning already?" Mikey moaned.

"Not even close, shell-for-brains," Raphael replied. "Donnie wants to talk to us."

"If it's not morning then why am I so hungry?" Mikey grumbled.

"Because, you haven't eaten since dinner and you can't seem to handle going more than 15 minutes without a snack. Now shut up and listen," Raph shot back.

Donatello ignored them. "I want to tell you all what happened to me. You probably know most of it by now. I know that I've been letting out bits and pieces, but I want you all to know everything, just in case."

"Nothing is going to go wrong tomorrow, Donnie. You'll be fine," Leo soothed.

"I know. I meant more like if I start freaking out or babbling. I don't want you to be surprised or disturbed if I say or do something while I'm under the influence of the drugs, or even just if I get scared. You guys deserve to know everything now."

"All right. If you are ready, we will listen," Splinter said. "And, we will not interrupt you," he continued, with a meaningful look at Michelangelo.

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Mikey complained.

"You're talking right now. Zip it," Raphael ordered.

Donnie closed his eyes. The room was dark, except for the dull, flickering light thrown by the muted TV. He was glad for that. He didn't want his family to see how much everything still hurt. And worse, he didn't want to see how much what he was going to say would hurt them. He knew it would, and he couldn't bear the thought of it. It's why he had waited so long to begin with. Donnie took a deep breath and began his story.

"That night, when Leo waved me down into the dumpster, the lid sealed itself. There was a hidden electromagnet that I hadn't noticed before. It must have been triggered remotely once they knew I was alone in there. I tried to get out, but then it filled with gas and I went unconscious pretty quickly. I remember trying to call you guys, but my phone wouldn't work. I thought it had something to do with that signal I'd been studying. I feel like I saw it pulsing on my phone screen, just before everything went dark."

"You did," Mikey blurted, only to be kicked in the head by Raphael and simultaneously shushed by Leo. "I'm sorry, go on," Mikey conceded. Donnie chuckled a bit and cleared his throat.

"When I woke up, I was hanging from the wall of a small cell, with my wrists and ankles shackled." Donnie subconsciously rubbed the scars on one of his wrists. "Those shackles never came off. I wore them continuously over the years. There was a shock collar around my neck too, but they didn't use it right away."

"Three of the cell walls were clear, and there were six guards watching me at all times. As you guys already know, the guards were dressed like Foot soldiers. It wasn't until I'd been there for a few days that I met Pseudo-Shredder. He claimed that he was going to return the Foot to its former glory, and he wanted to use me to do that. It was my mind that he was after. He needed someone comparable to Stockman or Chaplin in order to challenge Karai. He knew I wouldn't work for him willingly but he said that he could be patient, that his plans were long-term, rather than short-term. In essence, I was part of a stockpile. When the time came, he promised to find a way to coerce me to do his bidding."

Donatello shuddered, then took a moment to gather himself. "Every time I refused to willingly work for him, he hurt me. He broke my leg upon our first meeting, after I mentioned Karai. He really hated her, and I learned never to bring her up. So anyway, they beat me every day, sprayed me down with freezing water, deprived me of sleep, starved me, whipped me, burned me, electrocuted me, you name it. The first year wasn't so bad, though. For the first year, they never gave me any drugs, and they always promised you guys were safe. They even used to give me proof - proof that you were alive and that they weren't hurting you."

"But after that first year, when I still wouldn't cooperate, things changed. They said that they would hunt you all down. They started testing all sorts of drugs on me, designed to make me more cooperative and open to suggestion. It never fully worked, but it did...warp my reality somewhat. One of them temporarily paralyzed me, a few of them made me see things that weren't there. Sometimes they tried to hypnotize me. The first time they did that, I tried to trick them into thinking that it worked, and when they found out that it was just an act, they broke my shell. But worse, they said they had found you, that they would kill you. I had so many nightmares. There were visions and hallucinations too, made worse by all the drugs. I kept seeing all of you die over and over. It seemed so real. It just wouldn't stop, and there was nothing I could do…. I …I ..."

Donnie couldn't continue. He waited a bit but found that he still couldn't bring himself to talk. He refused to open his eyes, not wanting any of them to see what was going on inside of him. After a minute or two of silence, Donnie felt movement on the sofa, and Raphael pulled him close. Raphael used one hand to hold his upset brother's head firmly against his plastron and used the other to stroke his arm. This gave Donnie the strength to continue.

"And if any of you had died I knew it would have been all my fault, for not giving in to them. At one point they said that they had killed Leo. They gave… gave me his sword as proof. I told myself not to believe it. But, a part of me did, a very large part of me. Because, I'd never been able to reach you guys on the spirit plane, and because all my nightmares made it seem so real. And... it just went on like that for years - torture, beatings, druggings, guilt, terror. There were times I was sure I wouldn't make it, at least not with my sanity intact. I never… I never agreed to work for them, though. I convinced myself that you wouldn't want me to, and that you guys would've been able to protect yourselves. I convinced myself that it was all just lies and nightmares. I told myself that every day, over and over."

Donnie sniffled. "And then, the so-called FBI broke me out. You guys kind of know this part by now. They set it up to look like a raid, and supposedly took me someplace else. I recognized one of the agents as a former guard, and that's what tipped me off. I knew that this was my chance to get out, so I faked a medical emergency, and then created that explosion and escaped through a window. It didn't take me long to realize they were tracking me. I had to electrocute myself to make sure that the trackers were disabled. Honestly, you'll probably find them tomorrow. Anyway, I healed up a bit and then made my way home." Donnie sighed into Raphael's chest and then laughed a little. "The end."

Raphael rubbed the broken shell, looking forwards to tomorrow's repair. He didn't want to see it ever again, especially not after this. "You did good, Don. You did real good. Thanks for telling us."

"No more secrets, now," Donnie sniffed. "And if something makes me freak out tomorrow, you'll understand why."

"You're not going to freak out," Leo comforted.

"Don't count on it," Donnie chuckled.

"Really. You're not. I can tell. I know you can't see it yet, but you've been incredibly strong through all of this," Leo reassured.

Donnie shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I just lived through it and avoided thinking about things I knew I couldn't handle. It doesn't mean I've learned how to cope. In fact, it's quite the opposite. That's what has me so worried. Surgical equipment, drugs, having my back opened up again. It's going to put me back in that place I've been avoiding, and I won't know how to deal. I mean, look how long it took me just to be able to sleep on my own."

"We get it, Donnie. No one will blame you if you do freak out. We're going to be here either way. And as you put it, you'll just live through it," Leo said.

"Well, if I get really bad just use the gas to put me under. There's plenty of it in the canister," Donnie requested.

"Can I be in charge of that part?" Michelangelo asked.

"Sure, I guess. I don't see why any specific person has to be in charge. Just use your collective judgement," Donnie suggested.

"Is it only you that we can use it on?" Mikey asked. "Because there are times that Raph could stand to be put under!"

"Can it, knucklehead, or it's going to be you on the table tomorrow," Raphael threatened.

* * *

 **I didn't really want to cut the chapter off here, but otherwise it would have been the longest one yet. Donnie's surgery will take place in the next chapter, but its not really graphic at all. And for those of you who are worried - don't be! After everything that he's been through, I'm not mean enough to kill him off now. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for all the favorites, follows, and reviews.**


	42. Chapter 42

**I do not own TMNT, the Smurfs or the Snorks.**

April wiped her brow with the back of her arm. She hated all of this so much. It just wasn't fair. Donatello belonged in a hospital. He shouldn't be laying on a workbench in the sewer right now, hooked up to a salvaged anesthesia gas tank, wearing a mask he modified himself. He needed real surgery performed by a real doctor. Hell, even a veterinarian or a paramedic would be a vast improvement over her.

Everyone was doing the very best they could, as always, but their best wouldn't come close to what could have been done at a proper facility by trained medical professionals. April looked around the surgical table, at the people holding Donatello's life in their hands.

Raphael was sweating bullets as he held his brother's shell away from the surgical area as firmly as he dared. It was his job to give April access wherever she needed it, while still doing his best to avoid damage to the delicate skin underneath, and the other fractured spots. It was extremely taxing, both physically and mentally.

Casey was holding a saw at the ready, as it was his role to cut away any portions of the shell that had to be removed. There were some spots that needed to go, to allow April proper access. There were also many spurs, and pieces that were too damaged to salvage. The brothers couldn't bear to take this role themselves, so Casey had stepped up. Cutting away pieces of his friend was grisly business, and he and April had talked about it at length so that he would be mentally prepared. He never said a word about how much it bothered him, and April loved him for that.

Leonardo was April's second in command. He had spent the most time going over the plan and researching potential complications with Donnie and April. What they were doing was similar to putting a 3D model together, but some of the pieces wouldn't quite fit. Cuts needed to be minimized, the underlying skin, bones and arteries had to be considered. It was grueling, but Leo was excellent with strategizing and working problems on his feet. He was a huge help.

Michelangelo and Splinter were taking turns monitoring vitals, administering medications, switching out wound dressings, and keeping an eye on the knock-out gas levels. Unlike the others, they didn't have to stay in the room continuously, which was probably for the best. Splinter was hurting, seeing his son open on a surgical table like this, and Michelangelo was best at providing moral support to Splinter and the others.

April furrowed her brow as she returned her thoughts to the challenge at hand. She was currently working on the smaller of the two wounds. She and Donnie had decided that it would be wise to focus on this spot first, as it would be less likely to suffer further damage during the next part of the operation. It looked like the broken edge of Don's shell had been forced into the skin when the trauma had occurred. April couldn't tell how deep it went, but it didn't look good. There was scabbing and fresh blood around the entry area, indicative of internal bleeding. Poor Don must have felt like he had a knife permanently stuck in his back. No wonder he was so eager to have this surgery complete.

It wasn't as though it was all that shocking. Now that April considered it, Donnie had more or less prepared her for this exact scenario when they were doing their research and prep. He must have known. That didn't make it suck any less, though. If anything, it made it worse. Donnie had always been the grin-and-bear-it type, but this was something else, so symbolic of all the things that he had been through and never discussed.

April grabbed a scalpel and ran it down the length of the ingrown shell, doing her best to gauge its length and ignore the fresh blood that bubbled up. It looked like four inches or so were embedded. "Casey, we need the saw again," April stated, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

Everybody groaned.

* * *

"Don's going to have a hell of a sore back after all of this," Raph lamented as he stretched out his own stiff upper body. It had been kind of nice serving as the muscle, in that it saved him from having to be the one to cut into his brother or make too many of the major decisions. However, it also really sucked, because he knew just how hard and how long he had to pull at Donnie's poor abused shell in order to keep the surgical area clear and then to reassemble him afterwards.

The whole time he'd been internally freaking out that he could be doing more harm than good, particularly as they moved along and had to be careful of areas that they had already operated on and closed up. Raph would sooner cut off his own arm than to witness one of his brothers splayed open like that. Still, he'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it ultimately made Donnie more comfortable.

In the end, the surgery had been a success. Donnie's middle and upper shell looked like a jigsaw puzzle, but the dents were now completely gone. There were still small holes where the two collapsed areas had been, and spacers had been screwed in on either side of each hole and re-opened fissure to keep everything in place as Donnie healed. It had been a shock to everyone that Donnie wanted to use screws instead of glue to hold the spacers, but Donnie had been insistent. They were sturdier and would allow him to get up and move around more quickly.

Much of the surgery had consisted of re-injury to allow for future healing. That had been the hardest part. Donnie was mobile before, but now he would need to lay on his belly for at least a week, and he would have to be very careful for a few months after that. Even then, it could take a year or more to heal completely. But, Donnie looked much better, despite the blood and screws and spacers. His shell looked like a shell again, domed and even, with the sharp edges neatly filed and aligned, ready to grow back together.

In a way, it was fitting, because the family was growing back together as well. They were all doing the difficult work of learning to accept and move on from the past, rather than to just ignore its painful repercussions. In time, the fissures between them would close, and they would be a single, whole unit once more.

* * *

All the turtles had been keeping watch over Donnie, but they had drifted away one by one as the night wore on. It was Leonardo who was sitting at his brother's bedside when he first awoke from surgery several hours later. He was alerted by a soft rustling which turned out to be a confused Donatello attempting to raise his head. Leo caught the look of unmitigated pain that crossed Donnie's face as he squeezed his eyes shut and allowed his head to fall back down, burying it deeper into the pillows. "Donnie?" he whispered as he placed a hand on his brother's tense shoulder.

Donnie issued something of a questioning moan/hum combination in response.

"Do you know where you are?" Leo asked.

"Home?" Donnie mumbled groggily into the pillow.

"Yeah, you're home and safe," Leo reassured. "How are you feeling?"

"Happy that I'm home," Donnie mused.

Leo chuckled. "That's good. I was more wondering if anything hurt, though."

"M'okay. Back hurts. Head's fuzzy. Why does my back hurt so much, Leo? Did they find me?"

Donatello sounded so childlike and pathetic. Leo grimaced in sympathy and readied another half dose of painkillers. They'd already administered the maximum amount that Donnie had pre-approved prior to surgery, but he wasn't about to let his brother suffer anymore. He'd had enough pain for this lifetime, and probably a few more as well. "No one found you. It's just a backache," Leo reassured. "I'm going to give you a shot, then you'll feel better, okay?"

"Sure. Trust you, Leo."

Leo injected Donnie's upper arm, then sat back at his bedside. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."

"K," came Donnie's breathy voice. "Thanks."

"Can you feel your legs, Don?" Leo asked after the two had sat in silence for a while. There was no sign of spinal cord damage during the operation, but Leo couldn't help but be nervous. They all knew the risk was there. Surgery was a chance that Donnie had been willing to take. Given that the actual maiming hadn't led to paralysis. It seemed unlikely that a carefully controlled surgery would.

"Hmmmm" was Donnie's only response. It sounded more groggy than worried, at least.

"It's a simple question," Leo said with a grin that quickly dropped when Donnie didn't reply right away. "Don?"

"Can't feel much. Kinda numb," Donnie answered.

Uh oh. Leo threw back the blankets quicker than he had intended to and began poking Donnie in the leg. "Do you feel that? Tell me you can feel that!"

"Hey, quit pokin' me!" Donnie protested.

"So, you felt it then?"

"Darn tootin' buckaroo," Donnie slurred before descending into a fit of giggles.

Leo sank down in relief and closed his tired eyes for a few minutes.

"Hey," Donnie whispered. "Hey."

Leo snapped his head up. "What's up, Don? Do you need something?"

"No. I, but I just realized that snerfs and snerks must be related. Why didn't I see it before, Leo?"

Leo frowned and leaned in closer to his brother. "Huh?"

"Really, snerks are just underwater snerfs," Donnie attempted to clarify. "Snerks grew those snerkles because… cause evolution."

Leo wracked his brain and recalled some VHS tapes they had when they were younger. "Do you mean Smurfs and Snorks?"

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Das what I said. They must be cousins. Do people know this? Should I call a biologist or somefin? What's Darwin's number? Gemme Chuck on tha phone."

"Smurfs and Snorks aren't real, Don. They're cartoons."

"I know," Donnie slurred. "I was talking about tha… tha Snerks. They're jus underwater Snerfs. Tell Chuck to bring his submarine so we can find'em. Mine broke."

"I don't think that Darwin had a submarine. Also, I'm pretty sure that he's dead."

"Oh no," Donnie mourned, looking ready to cry. "He dead?"

"I take it back. He's fine," Leo relented. Donnie offered a vacuous smile in return.

At this point Leo realized that Donnie was high. That's probably why he had cautioned them about the pain meds. For just a moment, it seemed kind of funny. That feeling only lasted a moment though, and then all Leo felt was guilt and rising panic.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Leo asked as he waved two fingers in Donnie's field of vision.

"S'four. Spore. S'four sounds like spore." Donnie said insightfully. Then he began to giggle again, before his face turned pouty. "Back hurts when I laugh."

Leo realized that he had better call April, even though he hated to do it. Although she had come through with flying colors, the surgery had obviously been hard on her. Leo and Casey had wanted her to rest, but she had managed to recover two trackers from Donatello's damaged shell and was eager to see if they could be traced somehow. While Leo didn't want to interrupt her rest or research, his concern for Donnie outweighed his guilt. If Donnie had been overdosed, Leo would need April's help to see him through.

"Sit tight, Don. I'm going to make a quick call. I'll get Master Splinter to come watch you." Leo opened the lab door and waved his father over. Raph and Mikey were sleeping in a huddle on the sofa.

"Is Donatello awake?" Splinter asked as he peered over Leo's shoulder.

"Yeah, but he was hurting, so I gave him a little extra pain medication."

"Dad!" Donnie yelled from the bed. "Dad, I'm over here!"

"I see," Splinter said, almost as though he was speaking to a child. He nodded at Donatello, but kept his eyes locked knowingly on Leonardo.

"I'm thinking I'd better call April," Leo said as he hung his head in remorse. "He's acting pretty loopy."

"Let's wait a few moments," Splinter said as he took Leo by the wrist and led him back to Donatello's bed. "How are you feeling, my son?"

"Fuzzy. Kinda tired. Room's spinning."

Splinter raised a furry eyebrow. "Any pain?"

"No. Not now," Donnie mumbled.

Splinter began to stroke Donatello's forehead as he subtly took one hand in his own and measured his son's heart rate. "How much more medicine did you give him Leonardo?"

Leo began to pace. "Only a half dose. He said his back hurt, and I figured enough time had passed since the last dosage."

"My dying?" Donnie slurred.

"It's okay," Splinter said to both of them.

"He said he was numb, and I think he's seeing double," Leo ranted.

"Spore," Don giggled.

Splinter smiled. "He should be numb. The sedatives are likely still in his system. Numb is better than hurting."

"That's what I thought too, but I was too hasty," Leo grimaced.

"No, Leonardo," Splinter soothed. "It had been hours since his last injection, and Donatello is always conservative about his calculations when it is merely his own comfort on the line. His pulse is normal. He is answering questions. You didn't hurt him. Isn't that right, Donatello?"

Donnie's eyes had drifted closed as his father continued to caress his forehead and temple. He smiled blearily and attempted to give a thumbs-up, but he didn't bother moving his arm and ended up poking himself in the face.

"Why don't you both get some rest? I will sit with Donatello and monitor him," Splinter offered.

Leo shook his head. "I don't want to leave him, father."

Splinter sighed patiently. "You may pull in another chair if you wish, but I want you to rest."

Leo did as his father suggested and noticed upon his return that Donnie had fallen asleep beneath Splinter's hand. It wasn't long before he joined his brother in slumber.

* * *

 **I know nobody likes surgery, but that wasn't so bad, was it? Thanks for reading!**


	43. Chapter 43

**The scene between Mikey and Donnie in the beginning of this chapter was inspired by Lady Antebellum's "Good Time to be Alive." I'm not much of a country girl, but I picked it up from a soda commercial and it sort of developed into a minor plot bunny. I could just very vividly picture the two of them clowning around to it, now that a lot of the stress is behind them.**

* * *

You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Donatello was a very happy turtle. True, his back was killing him, but he had grown so used to pain that he hardly noticed it anymore and his family had been lavishing him with attention and affection in the few days that had passed since his surgery. He was still stuck laying on his belly, completely unable to move around, which meant that no one was letting him out of their sight. Of course, the Pseudo-Shredder's guards had never let him out of their sights either, but the difference in the way he was treated last time he was down and out with a busted shell and the way he was being treated now was astounding.

There was always at least one brother at his bedside, and they were usually holding his hand or gently rubbing his neck and shoulders. The painkillers were upsetting his stomach, but food and drink were always available, and he was strongly encouraged to partake in them as much as possible. His father read to him. His brothers chatted with him. Pillows were fluffed, and blankets rearranged on a regular basis. Mellow music droned on quietly in the background. Donnie felt so very loved. It was enough that he was regularly fighting back tears of joy. Of course, whenever someone noticed the barely-restrained tears they assumed that he was hurting or silently freaking out, and the pampering only increased, thus leading to actual tears. Nobody seemed to believe him when he explained that he was just being overcome with happiness and relief. While Donnie didn't like anyone to worry unnecessarily, it was hard to argue when the outcome was something as welcome as a warm towel placed over his shell, or another cup of willow bark tea.

Michelangelo had made a special playlist, full of upbeat, feel-good songs - nothing too wild or loud, just happy music about how sweet life was. It had been playing nonstop for days now. Mikey had been sitting by Donnie's bedside and reading a comic book while his brother napped, or so he thought. After a while, Michelangelo became aware of movement beside him. Donnie's eyes were still closed, but he was lightly tapping his finger and humming along to the song. It was a pop/country duet, which wasn't usually Michelangelo's thing. He'd really liked the lyrics to this particular song, though, and apparently Donnie did too.

Mikey had always been vaguely aware that Donnie could sing. They had all caught him in the act on occasion, and April had mentioned listening in a few times when Donnie thought he was alone. Donnie didn't like being the center of attention, and never knowingly sang in front of anyone. It was one of those things that no one really thought about until he was "dead." Michelangelo couldn't sing at all. His voice was too rough and too high, but he couldn't help but egg his brother on, taking the female role in jest, just to see how Donnie would react.

Much to Mikey's delight, Donnie cracked his eyes open and a huge grin spread across his face as he watched Mikey embarrass himself. But when it was Donnie's turn to sing the male part, he plunged right in. Rather than completely messing around like Mikey had been, Donnie sang in earnest, with a rich, pitch-perfect voice that was made all the more beautiful because it had been so close to being snuffed out without ever being truly appreciated.

The two brothers finished up in unison. When the song was over they both broke out in laughter. "I never knew you could sing like that, Mikey!" Donnie joked.

"Same here, bro. We oughta have an encore for the others later. I'm sure they'd love it."

"Not likely," Donnie scoffed.

Michelangelo winked. "You might be surprised."

* * *

A week after the surgery, April stopped by for a post-operative checkup. She dismissed Donnie's family from his room under the guise of allowing him privacy. In truth, Leonardo had called and asked her to do this so that he could speak to the others without Donatello knowing. Splinter and his three healthy sons gathered in the dojo, each of them feeling ill-at-ease about the veil of secrecy that surrounded them.

"Listen," Leonardo started. "I know Donnie won't like this, but the way I see it, we've got to check out the facility that he blew up. We need to confirm that it's really where he was held and see if we can find any clues about who's behind the whole operation. Now that Donatello's surgery is behind us and he's beginning to recover, we need to make this our top priority."

"Right on, Leo," Raphael said approvingly. "You're right that Donnie will hate it, but there's no way I'm letting them get away with what they did to him."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," Michelangelo grumbled. "Why are we going out of our way to have this conversation behind Donnie's back? Doesn't he get a say?"

"You know he'll just say no," Raphael pointed out. "We've already told him that our stalkers are somehow associated with that place. Knowing what we're up to will just freak him out, and he doesn't need any more stress in his life."

"Who said he doesn't need to know?" Leo asked. "I'm just making sure we're all on the same page before we tell him. But ultimately, he deserves to know what's going on."

"Seriously?" Raphael huffed. "The poor guy is completely traumatized and he's recovering from surgery. All he wants is for us to stay by his side, and you just want to march in there and tell him that we're gonna go do something he's begged us not to? How could you do that to him, Leo?"

"What's the alternative? Sneaking around his back and never telling him?" Leo countered. Raph crossed his arms and looked away, but Leonardo ignored his brother's pouting. "Can I at least get a show of hands?" Leonardo asked, "Who agrees that we need to check out Auman?"

All four hands went up. Rather than continuing to argue with his brothers, Leonardo turned to Splinter. "Father, do you think that we should tell Donnie?"

"Yes," Splinter advised. "Just because he won't like it, does not mean that he should not know. There should be no secrets between us."

Michelangelo groaned, and Raphael muttered something beneath his breath.

"Just be sure," Splinter continued with a furrowed brow, "that you tell him, rather than ask him. Do not give him the power to say no."

Donatello did indeed say no. He said no quite a bit, over and over. If Donnie were capable of getting out of bed, he would have physically restrained them, but Leonardo and Raphael would not be deterred. The plan was set into place, and the turtles prepared to venture out in two days' time.

* * *

Leonardo moved the caution tape away from the front door of the supposed "material testing lab" that Donatello had escaped from. It was 2:30 AM. They had expected to be greeted by a security guard, but the place seemed abandoned. Some of the windows were boarded up, presumably those were the ones that Donnie had blown out.

"Nice," Raphael admired, as he began picking the lock. "The Brainiac really tore this place apart."

"I'm just glad no one was hurt," Leonardo replied. "Imagine what that would've done to Don."

"We all know that I don't suffer from the same hang-ups," Raphael said as he worked. "Anyone so much as looks at one of us the wrong way and I'm taking them down."

"Not tonight, Raph," Leonardo ordered. "We promised Donnie we would be in and out. No fighting."

Raphael growled in distaste and continued with his work. Soon, the telltale click of the lock popping open was heard, and everyone looked at one another.

"So, do we just… go in?" Michelangelo asked.

"I suppose we do," Leo answered as he stepped over Raphael and cautiously opened the door. Seeing that the coast was clear, he waved Karai forward. It was all hands-on deck in for this mission, save Splinter who was keeping an eye on Donatello. It made sense for a human to take the lead, so that the turtles could scatter back into the shadows if needed.

After Karai took a few careful steps forward, everyone moved into the building behind her, and scanned for signs of inhabitants or security systems. The building seemed just as dark and empty as it had from the road.

"I bet they cut the power after the explosion. They probably haven't bothered turning it back on. This place looks abandoned," Raphael observed.

"Is that good or bad?" Casey inquired.

Leo shrugged. "Probably good for tonight, but bad for the long haul. If this place is as cleaned-out as it looks, we're not going to find out much about who was behind the kidnapping."

"Well I for one hope that it is abandoned. This place gives me the creeps," Mikey complained. "I feel like the bogeyman is about to pop out and get me."

"I'll protect you," Raphael teased as he condescendingly pet Mikey on the head. "So, what's the plan, Fearless?"

"We need the humans on the ground floor as lookouts. Casey, you mind this door, in case we were followed. Karai, please cover the rear of the building. April is scouting the block, and some of Karai's most trusted generals are strategically located on nearby rooftops, so we shouldn't have any surprises. That leaves the three of us turtles to handle searching the building. Do you guys want to go from the top down, or from the bottom up?"

"Anything interesting is likely to be below ground," Raphael answered. "But, the top floors will likely be easier to get into and faster to search."

"We'll be more easily spotted on top," Leo pondered.

"There's more likely to be traps below ground," Raphael countered.

Leo and Raph turned to Michelangelo, who had been staring forlornly at his two-toed feet. When he realized that no one was talking, and all attention was on him, he panicked. "Heads! No, tails!" Mikey blurted.

"Who said anything about flipping a coin?" Raphael groaned.

"I don't know. I don't even have a coin!" Mikey whimpered.

"Then what are you talking about?" Raphael hissed.

"I don't know! I hate it here. Can we please just go?" Michelangelo whined.

"We start downstairs," Raphael decided. "The neighbors will be less likely to hear me pounding on Mikey down there."

To Leo, any decision was a good decision at this point. He located a stairwell and they began descending. Once they were on a windowless floor, they clicked their flashlights on. The room was empty - shockingly so. The only thing present was cobwebs. Still, they searched meticulously, inch by inch, looking for absolutely anything. There wasn't so much as a stray hair or fingerprint to be found. Every room on the floor was in the exact same state, as was every room on the floor below that. Finally, the brothers reached the bottom floor, and they were still completely empty-handed.

"I guess we know why those sedans were coming by" Raphael announced. "Late-night clean up patrol."

Leo cringed. "Well nobody's perfect. There's got to be something down here. If Donnie's prison was windowless, it almost has to have been below ground."

"Or it could have been in an interior room upstairs," Raph pondered.

"That seems too risky. Call it a hunch, I just feel like it must be down here," Leo replied.

"Where is it then?" Mikey asked. "I've looked all over the place for hidden walls and secret doors, but there's nothing."

Leo stood bolt upright. "What about the elevator shaft?"

"What about it?" Raph rumbled. "According to the elevator, as well as every single set of stairwells, this is the bottom floor."

"But do we really know that?" Leo mused.

Raph crossed the room and used his sais to pry open the elevator bay doors. Three green heads looked downwards.

There was another floor below.

"Down we go," Raph proclaimed as he hopped onto the cables and slid down to the last set of doors. He immediately began working on prying them open while still dangling from the elevator cable.

"There must have been a trick to get the elevator to access this floor. A hidden keypad, or specific combination of buttons," Leo contemplated.

"Who cares?" Mikey pouted. "It's obviously here, so why does it matter how they got down here?"

Raphael rolled his eyes while continuing his work. Opening this door was more difficult than the last. "What crawled up your shell?" he growled.

"I. Want. Out." Mikey insisted. "And if this place is so important, why would it just be abandoned? There's probably a small army down there waiting to nab us. That's exactly why Donnie didn't want us to come."

"We ain't disappearing like Donnie did," Raphael soothed. "If we don't check back in, Karai will have the entire Foot Clan swarm this place and tear it apart brick by brick until we're found. I may not trust her as much as Leo, but even I can see that Karai won't stand for a fake Shredder running around the City and trying to undermine her authority."

"Besides," Leo added as he came to rest next to his brothers. "They probably figured it was less suspicious to abandon this place. For all they knew Donnie actually believed that this was really the FBI, and simply wanted to escape anyway. If that was the case, we'd have every reason to stay far away from here. And even if they did think we might pay this place a visit, this floor is extremely well-hidden."

"Karai's protection will mean absolutely nothing if there's a man with a gun on the other side of this door, but I suppose I'll have the last laugh when we're all dead," Michelangelo groused.

"There ain't gonna be a man with a gun," Raphael said confidently.

"How can you be so sure?" Mikey asked.

"Because," Raph replied. "He'd just get blown up as soon as the elevator bay doors open. Can't you see the wires? This thing is rigged."

"What?!" Mikey and Leo gasped, looking around frantically.

Raphael just chuckled and pushed open the doors. "Gotcha," he proclaimed.

"Don't do that!" Leo sputtered as his pounding heart calmed down. He then swung into the pitch-black hidden floor, soon followed by his brothers. They tentatively cast their flashlights about, then called Casey again to report where they were.

The first few rooms they encountered were almost as empty as those on the floors above. Some larger items remained, such as a set of gym lockers and a few benches that were nailed down. One of the rooms contained a steel door that had been propped open and lead to a hallway. The hallway ended in another steel door. The second door was closed, but the locking mechanism had been removed. That door opened into a larger room, and it was there that they found it - Donnie's cell.

As much as Donnie had been loath to talk about it, they recognized the place instantly. There were three clear walls, and one cement wall with a drainage grate below it. The door to the cell clearly must have locked at one time, but just like the other doors on this level, the entire locking mechanism was no longer there. The turtles didn't dare step inside the cell, but they could see that a portion of the drainage grate was missing. There was no sign of the manacles or chains that Donnie had described, but there were visible holes in the cement wall where they must have previously been connected. Leo went around back, and Raph took a deep breath and stepped inside of Donnie's former prison.

The cell was so small - much more so than Raphael had imagined. He could practically see a ghost of his gentlest brother here, lying broken on the floor, surrounded by phantom guards that offered him no mercy. He knew that Donnie was safe at home now, but he couldn't escape that vision. Mikey was right. They should never have come here. As it was, Mikey was frozen in place at the door.

"Donnie said that the chains were able to retract into the wall. Whatever mechanism they used to control them is already gone," Leo called from the other side of the concrete wall. His eerily disembodied voice drifted through the holes that had previously fed the chains, to reach Raph's red-hot ear slits.

Leo appeared beyond one of the clear walls. "This whole place reeks of bleach," he stated needlessly. Everyone could smell it. "That and the fact that they took everything that wasn't nailed down indicates that they aren't coming back. They were careful to leave absolutely no trace of themselves or Donnie behind."

Raphael let out a deafening bellow and began to hack at the cement wall with all his might, just wanting to take his rage out on something, on anything. "When I catch this guy, I'm gonna shove my sai so far down his throat, he's not gonna know whether he's choking or bleeding to death!" Raph roared.

"Please, can we just go?" a distraught Mikey whined. "We shouldn't be here. I just wanna go home and hug Donnie."

"I think we all do, Mikey," Leo agreed. "And you're right. We might as well leave. If they went through all this trouble to clean out a hidden floor, there certainly won't be anything of interest left above ground. Besides, we got what we came here for. Now we know for sure that this is where they held Donnie. That means that Auman has to be connected to all of this somehow."

"Must've. Known. We. Were. Coming," Raph huffed as he continued to hack at the wall with his sais. Concrete chips were flying everywhere, leaving small cuts on his hands, arms, and even face, but he would not be deterred.

Mikey finally flew through the door and attempted to restrain his brother. "Knock it off Raph! Leo said we can go. Let's just leave already!"

Raphael elbowed Mikey away and continued chipping at the wall like an enraged bull. It took both Leonardo and Michelangelo to pull him off.

* * *

Splinter was quietly stroking the back of Donatello's head when he heard his other sons return home. They'd already called to say they were okay and headed back, but Donatello was still distraught. It was daybreak now and he hadn't slept a wink. Barely concealed rage was etched on his features.

Raphael appeared in the doorway, and wordlessly stomped over to the bed. Splinter's ears flicked back in irritation. The look on his father's face was enough to make Raphael freeze in place. Thumps and rustling could be heard in the main room, then the other two turtles appeared together in the doorway.

"Nice of you to show up," Donnie snarled in a voice completely unlike his normal, calm tone. "Had fun poking around in my own private hell?"

"You know we didn't," Raphael growled. "Now brace yourself."

"What?" Donnie choked out, his rage giving way to confusion. Without supplying an answer, Raphael thrust one arm below Donnie's shoulders and the other below his lower plastron and gently pulled Donnie off the bed. Donnie squawked in surprise as Raphael effortlessly carried him out of the room, his legs dangling inches above the floor in a manner that might have been comical under different circumstances.

When they reached the main room, Leonardo and Michelangelo helped Raphael lower Donatello onto a mattress that had been dragged out of one of the bedrooms. "We've all been fighting about who gets to sleep next to you tonight, and we know you ain't up for a turtle pile, so this was the solution. Sensei gets the sofa, if he wants it," Raphael explained.

Donnie found that he had gone mute. He was tired. They all were. He was so mad that his brothers had risked their lives despite his objections. He'd been terrified, not only of them falling into a trap or getting hurt, but also of them finding his prison. He didn't want them to see it. Even though they already knew most everything about it, he didn't want them to have to deal with that visual. But deep down he knew that he shouldn't blame them. They were doing what they thought was best, and it couldn't have been easy. Clearly, they hadn't wanted to hurt him, or risk their own lives.

Donnie finally gave up his internal battle, although he wasn't sure which side of himself won. "So, you found it, then?" he murmured.

"Yeah, Don. We did. Hidden floor at the bottom of the building," Leo answered.

"And you're sure?" Donnie asked.

"You break off a piece of the drainage grate at one point?" Raphael replied, briskly.

Donatello nodded. "Yes, during the raid."

"Then we're sure," Raphael confirmed.

"Place could have done with a bit of decorating," Mikey whispered. There was a hint of a smile in his raspy voice. "Maybe a throw-rug, or some pictures of dogs playing poker."

Everyone laughed, not so much because it was funny, but because it was what they all needed to do in that moment. "Maybe a hanging scroll or two," Leo croaked.

"Or, you know, furniture," Raph added.

Donatello sighed, letting go of the remainder of his anger and betrayal. "You know, I always felt that what was missing from that place was a nice, turn of the century armoire."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, and thanks to all you commenters, and to those of you who have favorited and followed this story!**


	44. Chapter 44

Sydney stuck close to Casey as they approached the entrance to the lair. She wasn't sure how she felt about being underground again. On the one hand, she was used to it, but on the other hand, it had been a long time, and those memories certainly weren't ones that she wanted to relive. It seemed that she would be doing just that, though, if she truly wanted to help Donatello.

And she did want to help him. She wanted it more than she had wanted anything in a long time. He had done so much for her and her friends, without expecting or receiving anything in return. As she recovered from her own trauma, she had recognized a need within her to properly thank him. It was such a blow to find out that he was presumed dead. She had thought that she would never get the chance to let him know just how much everyone appreciated him. Now, that he was back home, it was wonderful to know that she had the opportunity to not only thank him, but also to repay him in some small way.

After Sydney and her friends had been rescued by the turtles, they had returned to their own families. Dozens of missing person cases were suddenly solved. The estate of Oroku Saki, now headed by Karai, had settled a class action lawsuit lead by Sydney herself for a huge sum of money. Psychiatric costs were also covered, and Sydney had made full use of that particular benefit. While she was no Psychiatrist herself, she was probably the closest thing that Donatello would be able to find, and unfortunately for them both, their experiences were very similar. She wasn't sure how much she could help, but in her experience, it would be good if he simply knew that he had someone outside of his family to talk to, someone who would understand.

Sydney had been lost in thought when Casey opened the lair's hidden door. Suddenly light and noise was pouring into the dank sewer that had surrounded her. Raphael and Michelangelo were backed into a corner of the room, squabbling about something. Leonardo was nowhere to be seen. Splinter was sitting in the recliner and watching what appeared to be a daytime soap opera, and there on the sofa, but apparently not paying any attention to the chaos around him, sat Donatello.

Sydney was struck by a myriad of emotions that she hadn't been expecting, but she forced them all down. This wasn't about her, after all. "Hi guys," she waved, her voice bright.

"Sydney," Raphael said with an appraising once-over. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, I'm here too, you know," Casey pouted.

"You're here all the time. No one cares," Michelangelo dismissed.

Donatello smiled shyly. "Hi, Sydney," he called with a friendly wave. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. I'm happy to see you," she replied.

Leonardo strolled out of the dojo, fully geared up. "Hi Sydney. Glad you could make it."

"Hey Leo. You look like you're ready to go already," Sydney greeted.

"Leo's always ready to go," Raphael noted.

"We wanted to make sure that you and Donnie could talk in peace," Leo told their guest. "So, the plan is for Casey, Raphael, Michelangelo and I to go out on patrol."

"But first, catching up over pizza!" Michelangelo declared. If he left things like this up to Leo, it would be all business all the time.

Everyone headed over to the kitchen. Donatello lagged behind, moving gingerly, but under his own power. Michelangelo had already put out a spread. Everything looked delicious, but Sydney was so busy answering a barrage of questions that she hardly had time to eat. She had last seen the turtles a few months before Donnie came home. Aside from an occasional email or message passed through April, she hadn't been in touch since then. She knew from experience that they needed to focus completely on Donatello. Given how many questions they were asking her, it was apparent that she had been missed.

She wished that she had something interesting to tell them, but the truth was that her life was rather mundane. She was working, but it was mostly to pass the time. The settlement with the Saki estate had left her financially sound. Her job was in computer programming, so it didn't make for a lot of exciting stories. She wasn't dating. She didn't go out much at night. Most of her free time was spent upstate, hiking and stargazing. She was pretty vanilla, but after everything she had been through in her short life, she liked it that way.

Donatello hardly spoke at dinner, but he did seem to be listening intently. When it came time for his brothers to patrol, his goodbye to them seemed quite melancholy. It was obviously difficult for him to be left behind.

"I will take my leave as well," Splinter announced, giving his son a squeeze on the arm. "I will be in my room if anyone needs me."

"Good night, Father," Donnie said softly. He then turned to Sydney with a hesitant look on his face. "You don't need to do this, you know."

"Of course, I know that I don't need to do this. I'm here because I want to be. It's alright if you don't want to talk, though. It's not like anyone is going to force you," Sydney explained.

Donnie sighed. "I know it'll probably be good for me… to just get some things out. But, I don't know how... where to start? How do we do this?"

"Well, it's important to be in a comfortable, distraction-free environment. Do you want to stay here in the kitchen, or is there a better spot?"

Given his braced leg and his hardware-covered back, the kitchen chairs weren't his friend at the moment. Donnie was tempted to offer up his bedroom, just for the sake of privacy, but that seemed far too intimate. "The living room would be good," he decided. Splinter would know better than to bother them, and he wasn't the type to listen in on private conversations. "Ladies first," Donnie urged. He wanted his guest to pick her own spot in their well-loved but rather grungy living room. He also didn't particularly want her to catch a glimpse of his mess of a back.

Sydney thanked him and chose a seat on the sofa. Donatello followed, and carefully lowered himself down. "How's your back?" Sydney asked, having caught the wince that he tried to hide. "April said that you guys did surgery recently."

"Yeah, we did. It's healing nicely, but it's still awfully sore," Donnie admitted.

"And how are you feeling otherwise?" Sydney asked, leadingly.

Donnie looked away and repeated his mantra. "I'm fine."

She could see that Donnie wasn't going to open up on his own, so Sydney decided to warm him up by sharing some of her own story. "I was lucky to come out of my ordeal without any physical trauma, but otherwise I think that you must be going through something like what I went through. I was underground for years, and my disappearance was an unsolved mystery. I know that my loved ones were hopeful at first, but over time, they sort of learned to let me go. Then, when you and your brothers rescued my friends and I, I got to go home to them."

Sydney smiled to emphasize her point. "I was so happy. _They_ were so happy, but things had changed. Everyone was different. Everyone was altered by the difficult events that we had gone through, and it was so hard to talk to them. It felt like no one really knew me anymore. Heck, I didn't even know myself. But, I was lucky to have a support group. I had friends that had gone through those events with me, and psychiatrists to help me along. Those were the people that really helped me to accept what had happened and to learn how to move on."

Sydney noticed that though he remained quiet, Donatello was watching intently from his chair. Her shrink had often made physical contact when she really wanted to get a point across, but Donnie was too far away. Instead, Sydney leaned forward and made sure to look him in the eyes. "Donatello, I know that you don't have those resources available to you. As much as you love your family and they love you, I know that you can't tell them everything. I want you to know that you can tell me. What we went through was very similar, and I have years of recovery under my belt. I can help you, if you let me."

From what Sydney knew of Donatello, he was happiest when he was helping others, so she decided to appeal to that. "You'd be doing me a favor, really, if you let me help you out. You saved my life, Donatello. You gave it back to me. There's nothing I'd like more than to repay you in some small way, and I think that I can help you to feel more at ease with yourself."

Donnie looked at the ceiling and then back to Sydney. "It's interesting that you would phrase it that way, because I have to admit that I've been plagued by this feeling that only my body made it home. My mind never completely did… I'm not crazy. I haven't _lost_ my mind. It's just that… I sort of don't remember how to be "me." I don't even know _if_ I'm supposed to be myself anymore. I mean, how do you come back from something like what I… what _we_ went through? How did you get over it, Sydney?"

Sydney folded her hands together. "Who's to say I did? People are meant to grow from their experiences, and we were both very young when we were abducted."

"Well, you seem… I guess I didn't know you really, either then or now, but you seem to be doing well," Donatello observed.

"I am," Sydney assured. "But that doesn't mean that I'm the same person that I was before. We can be many different people in our lifetime. I've never let go of what happened to me. I never will. I've simply learned to accept that my experiences changed me, and to embrace that change. I use it to remind myself of how strong I am."

"Wise words," Donatello praised. "But, it's different for you. Of all the people that were mutated and trapped down there with you, you were the only one to stay completely lucid and sane. It's a testament to how strong you are. I wouldn't want to forget that part of myself either if I were you. But, the same can't be said of me."

Sydney cocked her head. "What makes you feel that way? I don't know everything that you went through, but from what I do know, you have shown incredible strength."

"I just got through. One day, sometimes one minute, or even second, at a time. Anybody could do that. You were the last person standing. You were in a body that was entirely different than the one that you were born in, watching others lose their minds around you. Realistically, you had no hope of rescue, but you persevered." Donnie smiled as though he were proud of her.

"So, you had hoped to be rescued then? That's what got you through?"

"Some days," Donnie admitted. "Other days, I was sure that it would never happen."

"I don't know why that's different from what happened to me, then. Why do you feel like my survival proves my strength, but yours doesn't?" Sydney asked.

Donatello just shrugged. Sydney moved across the sofa, sitting down right next to his chair. She put a hand over his, which were folded in his lap. "Donatello, you've showed incredible strength. All those scars are a testament to what you were able to survive, and you were able to break out and find your way home all on your own. You should be so proud!"

"But I'm not home!" he cried. "At least not entirely. When I close my eyes at night, I'm back there. How do I get home, Sydney? Can you tell me how you did it?"

"It comes with time," was Sydney's patient response.

"That's what everybody says, but I've given it time," Donnie complained. "I thought that working on something might help, but now that my back is fixed, I don't know what to do next. I used to have all these ideas, but now there is just nothing. I can't fight beside my brothers. I almost never leave the lair. I have no interest in new projects." Donnie gestured to the laboratory. "There's nothing going on in there right now. I've been so patient, Sydney, but I can't seem to get any closer. If anything, I feel further away than before. I was so happy to be home at first, and that superseded everything. Now that feeling is slowly wearing off, but it's leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. I don't know what to do about that."

Sydney took a moment to absorb everything. She was no shrink, but he knew that. He had to assume that she wouldn't have all the answers. She had to just do her best. "Listen, Donatello. I went through something similar. It's hard to get back into a routine. You've been so focused upon mere survival. Everything else just seems trivial, right?"

Donnie have a tearful nod. "I've been trying to figure things out. I have tea in the mornings with Sensei. I meditate in the afternoons with Leo. Fixing my back, doing all the planning and making the equipment needed for that was a nice diversion. But now, I don't know how to fill my days any more. Being a ninja, all the hard work and training that went along with it, it was such a huge part of who I was. I accept that I can never be a ninja again, but I'd have hoped to at least be able to build and invent. Otherwise, I just don't know who I am anymore."

Sydney thought about that. "Have you asked your family for ideas? They said that most of what you invented in the past was to help them, at least at first. There has to be something that they need, or even want."

"They haven't asked me for anything. I think that they're afraid too. They all feel guilty about what happened to me, in their own ways. When I first got back, Leo wouldn't even let me fix a simple problem with the shower."

"I didn't ask if _they_ asked _you_ for anything. I asked if _you_ asked _them_ for ideas. What might they want, Donatello?" Sydney smiled. She hadn't known Donnie all that well, but from what she could tell most of what he did was to benefit other people, rather than himself. Her rescue, which he orchestrated, certainly was.

"I never had to ask them before. The ideas just came to me."

"That's no reason not to try now. Maybe once you jump back into things, the ideas will start flowing again."

Donnie was skeptical. He'd designed his signal blocker and detectors while on the run. He'd also designed the equipment for his surgery from scratch. If that hadn't stimulated his mental processes, he didn't see why a different project would. But, he didn't want to disappoint Sydney.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to ask," he relented.

Donnie and Sydney finished their session, and then set up the next one for two-weeks later. In the end, Donnie had rather enjoyed himself. He didn't have much to do these days, and it was nice to talk to somebody who could relate to what he was going to. His family had been trying very hard but learning how to talk to them given their own scars was part of where Sydney's advice had the potential to be helpful.

* * *

A few days later, Raphael and Donatello were working in the garage. The car belonged to one of Casey's clients, and only needed basic repairs. The work was boring, but Casey was earning a good reputation, and it was nice to help their friend grow his business.

Donnie thought about his conversation with Sydney, and figured that Raphael was a good place to start. The two were prone to chit-chat during these sessions anyway. "Does it feel like anything is missing around here to you?" Donnie asked. He realized immediately that he should have phrased it better.

"Huh?" Raphael mouthed. "Is Mikey hiding the tools again?"

"No, no," Donnie chuckled. "I meant is there anything that you guys need for the Lair? Or even for patrols?"

Raphael put down the screwdriver he'd been using. "I think that we've got everything that we need, don't you?"

"Maybe," Donnie sighed, "But we didn't know that we were missing out on electricity and running water when we were younger, right? Things can always be made better."

"Shouldn't you be telling me what's missing, then? That was always your department, Brainiac."

"I know, but I seem to be having a hard time coming up with ideas," Donnie bemoaned. "Once I have an idea, I can execute it just fine. It's my creative juices that don't seem to be flowing."

Raphael considered that. "So, you want me to give you an idea of something to build?"

"Yes. If you can."

"You could get started on Mikey's hoverboard. He's been chewing my ear off about it."

"We don't have ears," Donatello couldn't help but correct.

"Exactly," Raphael said, dryly.

Donnie laughed. "Be that as it may, I think the hoverboard is a pipe dream at the moment."

"Hmmm. Well, there is something…"

"Name it. The worst I'll do is say no."

Raph looked over at the turtles' trusty beige SUV and frowned. "I've got to admit that our current ride is somewhat lacking when you compare it to the Battle Shell or the Hauler."

"So, you were thinking we could rework it, or…" Donnie trailed off.

"No. I was thinking of us building something from the ground up. We could ask Casey to keep his eyes out for a van. Then we could gut it and rebuild it however we wanted."

Donnie liked the sound of that and cocked his head in consideration. "The Battle Shell 3, huh?"

* * *

 **I hope that you guys didn't find this chapter too boring. I really like Sydney's character and even though she was only in a few episodes, she seemed very connected to Donatello. I liked the idea of him getting some outside help, and who better than her? Next week's chapter is an action chapter, so stay tuned, and thanks for reading.**


	45. Chapter 45

Michelangelo peeked into the garage and breathed a sigh of relief. "There you are," he called. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"You got me," Donnie answered as he climbed down from the husk of what would become the Battle Shell 3 and wiped his hands on a rag. "Was there something that you wanted?"

"Not in particular. We just don't like it when you disappear. What were you doing in there, anyways?" Mikey's spirits rose at the thought of Donnie tinkering again. He seemed so much stronger now. Sure, he still had a heavy limp and a constellation of scars that would probably never go away, but Donnie just seemed so much like his old self lately. He'd put on a good amount of weight. Most of the hardware had even been removed from his shell.

Donatello rubbed the back of his neck. "Believe it or not, I was installing a coffee maker."

"What? Why? You don't even drink coffee anymore."

Donatello chuckled. "I know it's kind of funny. It's just that it's one of the last things that I remember thinking before the world went all wonky on me. It seemed fitting, like coming full circle."

Michelangelo's eyes widened. "Does this mean that you're ready to start really building again?"

Donatello stared at the shell of the vehicle for a moment, then gave it a fond pat. "Maybe. This was just a silly little project, but it did feel good."

"Well, keep at it, Bro," Mikey encouraged. "We're patrolling tonight, and the beige-blah monster over there is something of an embarrassment. We could do with a ride that has that old turtle-panache."

"Turtle panache?" Donnie repeated. "Did we ever have that?"

"Can't speak for the rest of you guys, but I know I did." With that, Mikey left as mysteriously as he had come.

* * *

Donatello was always nervous when his brothers left for patrol without him. To keep his mind occupied, he called April to discuss her work on the tracking devices that she had recovered from his back. It had been a month since the surgery now, but everything was slow going with April. Between her multiple jobs, motherhood, and taking care of her man-child of a husband, spare time was practically nonexistent for her.

Donnie carefully eased himself into a chair, newly rebuilt shell cell in hand. "Hellooooo April. Do you read me?"

In her apartment miles away, April grinned. "You know that I do. Is this your way of bragging that you managed to rebuild the shell cells in only a few weeks when I couldn't manage it over the course of four years?"

"Me? Bragging?" Donnie scoffed. "Why would I risk angering the woman who took a power saw to my back?"

"That was Casey," April pointed out.

"Oh please, everyone knows you two are in cahoots. Besides, credit where credit is due, I couldn't have rebuilt the phones nearly as quickly without the big bag of garbage that you considered a welcome-home present." Donnie winked, even though he knew that nobody was around to see it.

April laughed. "Be that as it may, I think it's safe to say that the test is a success. I can hear you loud and clear, Don."

"All good here too," Donnie confirmed." And seriously, April, thanks for your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

April's voice lost its playful tone. "I'm glad you feel that way because I'm afraid the tracking devices were a dead-end. The components aren't traceable, and you did such a thorough job disabling them that I couldn't recover anything whatsoever from the operating software."

Donnie batted a pencil around his desk, feeling oddly guilty. "Well, I did spend a while underwater before going at them with a pretty powerful electromagnet. Then I sort of electrocuted them."

"Well, mission accomplished. You're almost as good as Raph at destroying electronics," April praised.

Donnie wasn't sure what to make of that. "Thanks? Sorry that you wasted your time on a fruitless endeavor, but I have to admit that I'm happy to hear that I fried those little buggers as thoroughly as I did."

"Me too, I guess. At least we know for sure you weren't followed," April relented.

"I've been confident of that for a while now. I've been home for months. If someone was going to make a move on us, I think they would have done it by now," Donnie had the distinct urge to knock on wood, but there was none in his vicinity. He settled for picking up the pencil and tapping it on the work table.

Had he known what was going on across town, he might have put a little more effort into not jinxing things.

* * *

"Sensei, Donatello! Open the door," Leo hollered.

Since Donatello was busy constructing several more new phones in the lab, Splinter grabbed his staff and hurried to the lair entrance. He found Leonardo holding Raphael by the shoulders while Michelangelo grasped his legs. Blood was pouring from a deep gash along Raphael's side.

"What has happened?" Splinter gasped.

"He was shot. We need to get him to the infirmary!" Leo huffed as he pointed his shell in that direction and began walking backwards.

"Shot!" Splinter exclaimed, louder than he had meant to.

"Ain't nothing," Raphael mumbled, his eyes partially opening.

"Says the guy who's been in and out of consciousness for the last fifteen minutes," Michelangelo scoffed, struggling to keep his pace even with Leonardo's.

Having been alerted by the hubbub, as well as a chime on the partially restored security system, Donatello appeared in the living room. "What the shell?" he cried, hobbling as quickly as he could towards the rest of his family.

The magnifying glasses Donatello was still wearing gave his face a fish-like appearance. Raphael squinted, in an attempt to make sense of the image, before finally giving up. "I'm fine. Just a scratch," he insisted.

"As reassuring as that sounds, since when do you allow yourself to be carried like this?" Donnie asked as he pushed one of the lab doors open.

As if in response, Raphael's eyeballs drifted upwards until only the whites were showing. They then closed, as every muscle in his body relaxed into blissful unconsciousness.

Donatello exchanged a concerned glance with Splinter, who was holding the opposite door open. There was an unspoken question between them - _Have you got this?_

As the Sensei and parent, Splinter had always been in charge of patching up his sons. It wasn't until after Leonardo had been poisoned at the Battle Nexus that Donatello had truly taken an interest in medicine. His feelings of helplessness at Leonardo's bedside had driven him to research and plan incessantly and soon Donatello's healing skills were easily the best in the family. But, those skills hadn't been tested in over four years, and to call Donatello skittish would be putting it mildly.

Splinter furrowed his brow as he watched Michelangelo and Leonardo lay Raphael on the examination table. He then looked at Donatello and made a decision. This would be Donatello's show. His long-lost son had made great progress lately, but he hadn't been tested in crisis. Raphael's situation appeared dire, but not critical. If things went further south, Splinter would step in, but otherwise, Donatello would handle this. "Let me know what you need," Splinter instructed.

Donatello nodded and confidently approached Raphael's bedside. His steely demeanor told his family everything that they needed to know.

* * *

Raphael opened his eyes and was rewarded with a prime view of the lab ceiling. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he wasn't dead. As other senses returned to him, he became aware of a warmth at his side.

He looked down and saw that Donatello had pushed the spare medical cot next to his own, and was nestled against his side, fast asleep. Raphael chuckled warmly. Despite his recent progress, the Brainiac still did sleep best with a brother nearby.

Raphael figured that Donnie had tended to his wound and then kept an eye on him. At some point, he must have deduced that Raph was out of the woods and decided to sleep close by. Raphael nudged his brother. Donatello blinked slowly, then beamed from ear slit to ear slit. "Hey Raph! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, brain. Did you patch me up?"

"Yeah," Donnie confirmed. "I think you just kept passing out from blood loss. No signs of a concussion, but it took 25 stitches to close your wound."

Raphael had been shot from the ground during rooftop patrol. The bullet had skimmed up his side, between his plastron and his carapace. It left a long trail of damaged flesh, but managed to miss his arm, which was a blessing.

"Definitely blood loss. Only way I would've ended up with a concussion is if those two knuckleheads dropped me," Raphael answered wryly.

"I don't think that would have happened," Donnie considered. "They were circling you like overprotective vultures all night. Once they had their talons into you, they weren't letting go."

Raphael smiled. "How'd you get them to leave, then?"

Donatello grabbed his brother's wrist and measured his pulse as he spoke. "Leo was easy. He kept going on and on about how he should have made you guys stick to the streets and how this was all his fault. I told him that the bad energy wasn't good for you."

Raphael was rather surprised, as Leonardo rarely left a wounded ally's side without a fight. "That worked?"

"Splinter was sort of encouraging Leo to let me take charge, and his bad energy was certainly not good for _me_. I think he got the point," Donnie explained.

Raphael gingerly lifted his hand and clenched it into a fist. "Right there, bro." The two happily fist bumped.

"So, where's Mikey, then?" Raphael wondered aloud.

"In bed. He donated a good amount of blood to you, so Splinter is keeping an eye on him."

Raphael reddened a little, "Don't tell him I said this, but we always can count on Mikey when the cards are down."

"We're lucky to have him," Donnie agreed.

"Lucky to have you too," Raphael replied, twisting his hand to squeeze Donnie's wrist.

"And lucky you're alive," Donnie said a bit firmly. "Tell me what happened."

"The others didn't fill you in?"

Donatello grabbed a nearby infrared thermometer and angled it into Raphael's ear slit. "They did, but their hearts weren't in it," Donnie answered as he waited for the beep. "All I know is that you were shot from below. If you can tell me exactly where the shot came from, I can see if there are any security or traffic cameras nearby. Maybe we can figure out who did this." Apparently satisfied, Donnie laid the thermometer back down.

Raphael put a hand across his plastron and winced as he tried to sit up. When Donnie realized what was happening, he swung around and pushed Raph back down. "Easy there. Don't stress your wound."

Raphael growled. He hated being down and out, but his head was swimming as a result of the simple movement, so apparently concessions needed to be made.

As he reclined on his shell, he told Donnie the exact address of the building, what side of the roof he had been on, and what angle he was standing at when the bullet hit him. Donnie sat at his side and pulled up a map on his tablet. Soon, they had figured out the shooter's likely location.

Donnie grimaced and stood up, intending to cross the room and set up shop on his desktop computer to see what cameras were in the area. He was halted by Raphael's hand swiping at the back of his shell. "Where you going?" Raphael demanded.

Donnie pointed to his computer. "To see if my hacking skills are still up to snuff."

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. You've done enough for one night, Brainiac," Raphael advised. He pulled back the blankets on Donnie's cot to emphasize his point.

Donnie gave a tired smile and returned to Raphael's side. He knew where his priorities ought to be, and time was a blessing that he had in spades.


	46. Chapter 46

As it turns out, Donatello could still hack, albeit not as quickly or as easily as before. That was the good news. The bad news was that a review of local traffic and ATM cameras revealed that Raphael had been shot by a former Foot ninja. One way or another, it always came back to them.

So, a few days later Leonardo grabbed his brand-spanking new shell cell and called Karai. When he did, he found her in a rage. It was not like her to display emotions so openly, and Leo was taken aback when she picked up the phone and hissed a terse "What do _you_ want?"

Leo crinkled his snout and readjusted his grip on the little turtle-shaped phone. Perhaps she thought he was someone else - someone she had been arguing with. "Karai? It's Leonardo," he clarified.

"I know. When I receive untraceable calls, they are always from you. So, I'll ask again. What do you want, Leonardo?" Karai responded in a clipped voice.

Leo was so startled that he almost forgot why he was calling. "Um. It's about Raphael. He was shot by a former Foot soldier."

"Is he okay?" Karai asked, sounding slightly more in control of her emotions.

"Yes," Leo answered. "He is now."

Leo was going to say more, but Karai briskly cut him off with a dismissive noise. "Then what does this have to do with me?"

Now Leo was angry too. "One of your former soldiers shot my brother!" he shouted.

"Former!" Karai emphasized. "I have enough to deal with without being responsible for the actions of people that I no longer associate with."

Leo frowned. This wasn't like her. Rather than getting madder, he had to look deeper "What's wrong, Karai?" Leo asked.

On the other end of the phone, Karai took a deep breath. "Do you recall the object that I told you about when we met in the junkyard? The one that my father used to conceal himself on the spiritual plane?"

"Of course, I do," Leo replied. How could he forget?

"Well, it has been stolen," Karai explained.

"What?!" Leo howled.

At that, Raphael wandered into Leo's room, one hand on his bandaged side. "What's all the ruckus?" he demanded.

Leo put his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "Something was stolen from Karai. It could be related to Donnie's disappearance."

"Put it on speaker," Raph ordered.

Leo did as requested, then asked Karai to start from the beginning.

"As we discussed, I have spent some time looking into the artifact that my father used to conceal himself, spiritually," Karai explained. "It is a stone pendant that he sometimes wore under his armor. I remember it from when I was a child, although I was unaware of its true function back then. After his banishment, I kept it in my bedroom, for sentimental reasons."

Leonardo attempted to ignore Raphael, who was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Raph was capable of very deep love, but sentimentality was something that he could never grasp.

"Through the years, I have become rather disenchanted with my father," Karai continued. "Though I will always love the man who raised me, my memories have grown tainted as I continue to learn more about who he really was. So, several years ago, I removed the pendant from my home and placed it in the Foot tower's vault. Until recently, I thought no more of it."

"But then," Raphael urged, impatiently.

"But then," Karai pointedly repeated, her voice regaining some of its sharp edge. "In studying some of the Foot's ancient texts, I came to realize the unique properties of the pendant, and why my father sometimes chose to wear it. This only made me all the more upset, both with him, and with the pendant itself. I vowed to leave it locked and buried in the vault, where it belongs. For those of us with honor, there is never any need to hide our true intentions away."

"I agree," Leonardo said.

"I knew that you would," Karai confirmed. "But, after speaking to you in the junkyard, I decided that a deeper study of the artifact was in order. So, I personally removed the pendant from the vault. However, I quickly noticed that it did not look quite the same as I remembered. At first, I thought that it was just my imagination, that my mind was playing tricks on me."

"What was different about it?" Raphael asked, finally interested.

"Details that nobody but me would notice," Karai answered. "The stone is made of smoky quartz, and a dragon was etched into it. The dragon is exactly as I remember it, but the stone itself is not. I spent many an hour staring into that stone. I remember every swirl, every imperfection." Karai briefly paused before finishing. "The stone that is set in the pendant now is merely a cheap replica."

"You're sure?" Leonardo questioned. He immediately regretted it, as he heard Karai pound something.

"Yes," she snapped. "I told you, I remember every detail. And furthermore, I have been testing it. It does not function as the text said that it would. I have been wearing it for days, and I sense no difference, spiritually speaking. I can see everyone, and everyone can see me. This pendant. It is a fake!"

Leo and Raph heard a clattering, which they both assumed was the sound of Karai tossing the fake pendant across the room.

Leo was brave enough to speak, although it was not without hesitation. "Do you know… Do you know when the original pendant was taken?"

"I know that I placed the true pendant in the tower's vault. I am positive of that."

"But when?" Leo implored.

"I know what you are thinking, and it was well-prior to Donatello's disappearance," Karai replied.

Raphael curled a hand into a fist, and Leo grabbed his arm. "Careful of your wound!" Leo said softly. "Don't go punching anything."

Raphael wrinkled his brow. "Yes, mom," he hissed.

Leo ignored Raph's crankiness and returned to his conversation with Karai. "Well then, who has access to the vault?"

"Only my most trusted generals," Karai answered.

"Have any of them been acting suspicious?" Leo asked.

"How about security?" Raphael barked

Karai answered them both at once. "Of course, there is security. Don't you know me at all? And would I call them "my most trusted generals" if they behaved in a suspicious manner?"

"Fine, sorry we asked," Raph answered for them both.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? You could've called. I would have helped," Leo placated.

"The situation is unraveling as we speak," Karai explained. "But yes, I will be calling on you. The odds are good that this affects us both. Particularly if Donatello's kidnapper enjoyed masquerading as the Shredder. This pendant would give him some credibility amongst the Foot. I will be checking the vault's security records and interviewing my generals. I will keep you informed."

Karai hung up without saying goodbye. Leonardo and Raphael looked at each other blankly.

* * *

It was an unusual group that sat together in a very large, but otherwise nondescript drainage culvert later that week - a mutant rat, his four mutant turtle sons, the leader of the Foot Clan, an engineer turned purveyor of antiques, and a sports-equipment-wielding vigilante. The work-in-progress Battle Shell 3 served as their office, and each of them had paper files, tablet computers, cell phones, and flash drives full of information. Their mission - Figure out the true identity of the Pseudo-Shredder.

Karai began by taking a leap of faith and reciting the names and addresses of each of her generals that had previously been given access to her vault. She had spent days conducting interviews and pouring over records but couldn't find any suspects amongst them. She had hoped that fresh eyes and new perspectives would offer her some insight. That would have been too easy, though, and they all came up clean. None of the Foot Generals had any connection to Auman Chemicals or to Peterman Transport.

Next, Leonardo listed every single former Foot soldier that had attempted to ambush them. They looked for relationships, possible connections, family members, and known friends that may be associated with one of Karai's generals, Auman, or Peterman. Other than the usual bonds between co-workers, there was nothing.

Then, April ran down a list of former executives associated with Peterman Transport. Again, there was nothing.

Looking into Auman proved quite a bit more difficult, given that it was a huge multinational corporation. Donatello took the lead with this. He hacked Auman's employee files and obtained a lengthy list of employees who had signed into the Long Island building over the past four years. He then cross-referenced the list against the database of security badge photos. He eliminated anyone who wasn't a green-eyed male. The good news was that the list was narrowed down to about fifty people. The bad news was that none of them had any manner of association with the Foot, at least as far as Karai could tell.

"What about visitors to the facility?" Leo asked the frustrated group. "Donnie said that the Pseudo Shredder wasn't there all the time, right? Maybe he didn't actually work for Auman."

"I can't seem to find digitized versions of the guest sign-in logs, if they even kept them," Donatello grumbled. "This might take a while."

While Donnie worked, the rest of the group combed through the copious amounts of information. It was April who finally had a breakthrough. "I think I've found something," she gasped. Everyone swiveled around.

"Peterman Transport used a relatively small accounting firm, rather than one of the Big Four," April mused.

"So?" Raph asked.

"Something like 99% of large corporations use one of the Big Four firms," Donatello explained, his fingers still flying across the Battle Shell 3's built-in keyboard. "But Peterman wasn't all that big, so it wouldn't be unusual to use a small accounting firm."

"Yes," April agreed. "But what I'm noticing is that some of the accounting paperwork used to support Peterman's bankruptcy filing was signed by the same accountant that filed some of the older statements for Auman Chemical."

At that, Donatello actually stopped typing. "What?"

"It's the first connection that I've found between the two companies," April replied. "Auman uses a Big Four firm, but the accountant who signed some of their annual statements between ten and fifteen years ago appears to have left the big firm and started a small firm of his own. One of his first clients was Peterman Transport."

"What is this accountant's name?" Leonardo asked.

"His name is Francis Kreager." April scrolled furiously through her tablet while everybody watched. "He owned and operated Kreager Accounting starting about ten years ago."

"Kreager Accounting?" Karai hissed. Everyone's heads swung from April to Karai.

"What about Kreager Accounting? Do you know them?" Splinter asked.

"Francis Kreager handled some bookkeeping for my father, and for the Foot. I don't have a personal relationship with him, and wouldn't recognize him, but I do know the name," Karai answered.

April went white and clutched her tablet to her chest. "I found a picture of him. Do you… want to see it?" Everyone knew that April was only asking Donnie. He took a moment, then nodded slowly. April turned the tablet cautiously. She didn't know what sort of reaction to expect, but Donnie merely squinted.

When he finally spoke, Donatello did not convey any emotion. "That… might be him."

"If it is, then this just got a lot more complicated," April mourned.

Michelangelo wrinkled his brow "Why's that?" To him, the statement made no sense. If anything, it felt like they were finally making progress.

April gulped and scrolled up higher on the webpage, which was an archived newspaper article. The headline read "Local Businessman Still Missing, Presumed Dead." The date was over a year before Donatello's kidnapping.

The sound of Raphael swearing was drowned out by Casey smashing a baseball bat into the metal desktop in frustration. Donatello dove beneath his workstation and covered his head. It took the efforts of both Leonardo and Michelangelo to coax him back out.

* * *

 **As always, thank you for reading and reviewing.**


	47. Chapter 47

A few days later, Karai made a rare visit to the Lair to discuss the latest wrinkles with their mutual enemy, and the possibility that he now had a name - Francis Kreager.

Donatello was embarrassed at his previous episode and explained that he'd had a panic attack triggered by Casey and Raphael's violent outbursts. While Karai understood Donatello's aversion to violence, she hoped that he would be smart enough to stay behind the scenes and leave the fighting to others if he was unable to control his emotions. Weakness of any kind had no place in Karai's world, but that didn't mean that she lacked sympathy for the troubled turtle. In fact, she had an almost motherly desire to make things right for him, which was a part of the reason that she had made the trek to the Lair, rather than simply calling Leonardo with her updates.

Karai had investigated her father's personal files. It turned out that Kreager had set up some "special" bank accounts for Ch'rell. These well-funded accounts had been cleaned out shortly after Ch'rell had been banished off-world. Where the money had gone was a mystery. Since Karai had no personal access to these accounts, there was no way of knowing their details. Karai had been under the impression that her father had left everything to her, but he had never made mention of this money at all. She had to admit that it stung on a personal level, as well as a professional one.

Kreager's current status was also a mystery. The underhanded accountant was presumed dead in a plane crash that had occurred five years ago. He had been the sole passenger aboard a small, private aircraft that plummeted into the Atlantic Ocean, several miles off-shore. The pilot's body washed ashore days later along with the wreckage, but there was no sign of Kreager. While there was no hard evidence that he had faked his death, it certainly seemed suspicious.

Karai hadn't forgotten about the stolen pendant either. Kreager himself had not entered Foot Tower since she had gained full control over her father's troops. Karai was positive of this. But, the pendant was definitely switched at some point, and it seemed apparent that it had then made its way into the hands of Donatello's former captors. This meant that it was likely taken at least four years ago, and then used to hide the turtle's presence at Auman Chemical.

The Foot Tower vault had security cameras, but the electronic archive only went back two years. If a true break-in had occurred, Karai would have known. Therefore, it had to have been an inside job, perpetrated by someone who had been granted permission to enter. This meant that Karai had been betrayed by one of her generals. She trusted her current generals implicitly, but several of the former ones were far more loyal to her father than to her. She had eventually cut ties with them, sometimes violently so. But, they would've had access to the vault for a period of time before their departure. Was one of them Donatello's "Pseudo Shredder," or was it this Kreager character?

"I don't care who it is," Raphael growled. "It doesn't sound like anyone on the list of potential suspects has any redeemable qualities whatsoever. I say that we just put them all six feet under and then wipe our hands of the whole thing."

"Actually, even if we can find him, I do not recommend confronting this imposter just yet," Karai advised.

Donatello nodded enthusiastically. "I agree."

"What?!" Raphael blurted.

"He's too dangerous guys. Just...no," Donatello pleaded. "Whoever this guy is, he's dealing in arms. Sooner or later the government will get him."

" _We're_ getting him," Raphael insisted. "He's been dealing in arms for years and the government either doesn't know or doesn't care. Besides, there's a personal grudge at stake here. I'm not about to let this psycho get away with what he did to you… or to the rest of us. Like it or not, he's dying by my hand."

"Raph-" Donnie begged.

"We get it, Donnie," Leo cut in. "We can talk later. But Karai, I'm curious as to why you want to wait."

Karai folded her hands. "This is not the first time that I have dealt with someone competing for my position. The stupid ones challenge me almost on impulse. They are not well organized, and therefore easily defeated. The smart ones are more difficult. They tend to do their best to fly under the radar while they quietly build power and compile resources. Once they have enough weapons in their arsenal, and a decent number of followers, they make their move. The smart ones know that they won't stand a chance against me if they strike too early."

"Exactly, so why wait?" Leo repeated. "Isn't that giving your opponent the advantage? Shouldn't you strike as soon as you can, before he is ready to take you on?"

"He underestimates me, Leonardo," Karai answered. "He can buy all the weapons he wants, recruit as many of my rejected soldiers as he sees fit, dishonor himself by stealing our artifacts and funding, but it will never be enough to defeat me."

"Now that just sounds cocky," Raphael groaned.

"Pride goeth before the fall, and all that," Michelangelo added.

"It's not pride," Karai insisted. "Merely confidence in the abilities of my troops, as well as my own strategic positioning. But that is beside the point. You must remember that what I just told you about my challengers goes both ways. We cannot run the risk of underestimating our enemies, or of striking too quickly ourselves. Everything that we know about this false Shredder indicates that he may indeed turn out to be a powerful foe. We know that he has a weapons stockpile, maybe even many of them. We know that he has many allies, and that he is clever and well-hidden. We cannot take an offensive position until we have all the information that we can possibly get our hands on. In the meantime, we let him believe that he has escaped our notice, thus lulling him into a false sense of security."

"But we'd still be watching out for him, right?" Raph begged. "We don't want to be caught off guard."

"Have you ever known me to be off guard?" Karai asked, with a trace of a smile.

"I guess not," Raph reluctantly agreed.

Donnie shuddered. "Well, it certainly sounds like you've got this guy pegged. He outright told me that I was one of those stockpiled resources that you were talking about. He thought that if he held onto me long enough, he'd figure out a way to use me when the time was right. If he could manage to break me first, that is."

Karai put her arms around Donatello. She wasn't generally the maternal type, but in that moment, Donatello seemed like a lost child. He didn't return the hug, but he did subtly lean into her embrace. He was trembling, but his body was stiff as he fought to suppress it. "Don't worry," she soothed. "I've battled this type of foe before, and I haven't fallen yet. You're under my protection, now."

"Thanks, Karai," Donnie said shakily. He finally worked up the courage to return the hug, but the movement revealed just how badly he was trembling to everyone watching him.

"We're all looking out for you, Donnie," Raphael said. "Nobody is going to get to you, least of all this guy. We're gonna squash him like a cockroach, just as soon as he dares to scurry out from whatever dark corner he's hiding in."

"I know," Donnie gulped. "But I do worry that he may be making his move sooner rather than later. He seemed to have plenty of troops on hand, and we know that he started stockpiling weapons at least four years ago. Whatever his plans are, they must be pretty far along."

"All the more reason to wait," Karai reiterated. "We need to destroy more than just him. We need to take down his entire organization, wipe out all of his assets, make sure that another contender doesn't take his place once he is gone."

"In the meantime, we won't be doing nothing," Leo rallied. "We'll start by learning as much as we can about Francis Kreager. We can also revisit some of our stalkers. Now that we know for sure that they're connected to Donatello's disappearance, we can give them a real shakedown and see what sort of information they reveal."

Michelangelo licked his lips "Time for some late-night theatrics," he announced.

"Just be careful not to let them know that you consider the Foot and I to be your allies," Karai advised. "It's fine if they think that you are seeking retribution for Raphael's shooting or Donatello's kidnapping, but it is best if they don't know that I am working with you to bring down their boss."

"Why not?" Raphael asked.

"You are not as large a threat to them as I am. If they realize that I am involved in any of this, they might become spooked. They can't know that I'm on to them."

"There's that ego again," Michelangelo teased.

"Seriously, Karai is right," Leo agreed. "It's fine if they think that we're just bumbling around, but let's not tip our hand too much."

"Well, bumbling around is what Michelangelo does best," Raphael announced. "I nominate him as mission leader."

"Oh har-har," Michelangelo droned.

Leo just smiled fondly and shook his head. "And what will you do next, Karai?"

"I will look into the weapons dealing aspect of this. There are a limited number of players in that arena. I will see if I can figure out who our enemy's supplier is. If we can trace his shipments, then we have a shot at finding his stockpiles before he can use them."

"This sounds like a good plan," Splinter proclaimed. "Like true ninjas, we will bide our time in the shadows, observing every little detail about our enemy. When we are ready to strike, we will do so with all our might."

* * *

Michelangelo watched as Donatello clacked away at his keyboard. He was seated in the Lair's main room with his legs propped up on the coffee table and his laptop computer balanced on a pillow. Just as Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were keeping busy planting bugs and gathering information on the streets, Donatello had his hands full chasing the ghost of Francis Kreager. It was difficult for everyone to spend time together, given that Donnie couldn't train or patrol, so they all made it a point to hang around in common areas whenever possible.

While it was always nice to see Donnie, Mikey absolutely hated the sight of that damn leg brace. Now that Donnie was physically better, it somehow made that worst and final-remaining injury stick out all the more. Donatello insisted that his leg was hopeless, but Michelangelo knew better. Though he didn't often speak about it, Michelangelo knew more about the future than anyone. He knew that it was just a matter of time before his brother accepted that total healing was completely possible. In the meantime, all Mikey could do was to wait and watch for the signs that the time was right for him to make his move. It was hard for the most energetic of the turtles, but it was all a part of his training. And this was one test he was determined to pass.

Fortunately, there were plenty of outlets for Michelangelo's emotions. He wandered idly around the room, doing his best to appear nonchalant. When no one was paying him attention, he suddenly threw himself at Donnie and pulled him into a bear hug.

Donatello blurted out a quick "Ack!" before he descended into laughter. It was a sign of his improvement that it took a lot more to startle him these days than it used to. "Careful! My computer," Donnie warned as he expertly shifted the balance of the machine and transferred it to one hand.

"Ah, I knew you'd save it. You're ninja, after all," Mikey announced, his voice reverberating strangely off the inside of Donnie's shell. "You may deny it now, but we both know that it's in your blood."

Donatello chuckled. "What's gotten into you?"

"Sometimes I still can't believe that you're here is all," Michelangelo answered.

"Me neither," Donnie agreed. "But it's getting easier all the time." The two hugged for a minute, before Donatello pulled back. "Would you mind doing me a favor?" he asked.

"Anything, Donnie. You name it," Michelangelo agreed.

Donatello moved to put his laptop away. "Let's play police sketch artist. If I describe some faces to you, will you draw them?"

Michelangelo rose to retrieve the needed supplies. "Sounds like fun, but something tells me that it's not really "play.""

"Well, you've got me there," Donatello admitted. "The thing is, even though I didn't see much of the Pseudo-Shredder's face, or even the guards, there were a few people that I can remember pretty well from the so-called FBI. Now that we are confident that they were actually a part of the Pseudo-Shredder's group, it would be helpful to get their descriptions to Karai. They must have been pretty high up in the organization to be trusted with me. Maybe they were Karai's former generals?"

This excited Michelangelo. "If so, we can send her the sketches and see if she recognizes them. Maybe we can put some actual names to these people!"

While it wasn't a game, playing police sketch artist turned out to be fun for Mikey after all. It wasn't often that he was able to put his art skills to good use. By the time they were done, there were two high-quality sketches. One, Donatello labelled "Commander Davis," the other was named "Declan." Donatello scanned the drawings and e-mailed them to Karai.

Later that night, while the other turtles were out on patrol, Splinter heard a chime on Donatello's shell cell. He watched as Donatello ran his fingers across the phone screen with an ever-deepening frown. "What is it, Donatello?" Splinter finally asked.

"It's a message from Karai. She's confirmed that one of the men who claimed to be from the FBI was formerly a high ranking general with the Foot," Donatello explained. "He told me that his name was Declan, but it turns out that it's really Darren Xavier. The name doesn't matter much, I suppose. The point is that Karai's former generals were definitely involved in my kidnapping. Not much of a surprise really, but it's good to know for sure."

"So, you believe that this "Darren" is your so-called Pseudo-Shredder?" Splinter surmised.

Donatello shook his head. "No green eyes and no accent. But, it probably explains the theft of Karai's pendant. They must have known that they would need something to keep me from reaching out to you guys on the spiritual plane, so Darren must have stolen it from the vault prior to capturing me, then handed it over to the Pseudo-Shredder."

"At least we have another name," Splinter observed. "That will make this "Darren" easier to track."

"Yes, and I'm guessing that he's pretty high up in the organization," Donatello replied. He then breathed out a forlorn sigh.

Splinter looked Donatello up and down. "This news does not please you, my son?"

"No, it does." Donatello answered, looking none too happy. "It's just that I know that the others will want to start tracking this guy now. He's our best lead so far, since I haven't been able to dig up any credible information about the afterlife of Francis Kreager."

"I believe that you are correct," Splinter nodded. "So why are you not happy to be getting closer to finding your answers?"

Donatello hesitated. "I am, but I hate the idea of the others putting themselves on the line while I'm holed up down here in the sewer. I'm scared of these guys, Sensei, but I can't stand sitting around when my brothers are running around the city risking their lives."

It didn't escape the old rat's notice that Donatello had just called him "Sensei" rather than "father" for the first time since his return. "I can relate to that," Splinter noted.

"I bet you can," Donatello returned with a hint of a smile.

"But you are hardly doing nothing" Splinter continued. "The items that you have begun building again are a great help to your brothers - the new phones, the improved trackers and listening devices, the third Battle Shell. Not only that, but your research is driving much of their efforts."

Donatello's frown deepened, and he lowered his head. "All the more reason to feel guilty if something goes wrong. For all I know, I'm leading them to their doom."

Splinter put a comforting hand on his son's shell. "Your brothers have made their choices and you have made yours."

At that, Donatello's head snapped back up. "What do you mean?"

"Only that they choose to complete their missions, just as you have chosen to stay behind," Splinter clarified. He hadn't meant to offend Donatello, only point out that the others weren't being forced into anything blindly.

"Is that what you all think?" Donatello sputtered. "That I choose to lock myself away down here?"

"I can hardly speak for everyone," Splinter began before being cut off.

"I don't want to stay behind. I hate it," Donatello ranted. "But I'd be terrible on the surface. I can't even walk properly on this leg, never mind fight. I still can't completely control my panic attacks, and even if I were to want to return to patrolling, everyone would be so concerned about me that I'd be more of a distraction than a help. I'd probably get everyone hurt or even worse, killed."

"Calm down, Donatello," Splinter ordered. "I too choose to stay behind. There is no shame in knowing your limitations."

"Where do I have a choice?" Donatello cried.

"There is always a choice," was Splinter's understated response.

* * *

 **You guys, life has been crazy lately. I usually write at least a few chapters ahead, but at the moment I don't have much in the bank for next week. I've been doing weekly chapters for almost a year now, but I'm not feeling too confident about getting the next one out on time. On a related note, sorry if there has been a quality drop off. I just haven't had much time to write at all. I do appreciate all of your reviews, favorites and follows. Thank you so much for supporting this story. We are in the home stretch now, and I want to finish it out right!**


	48. Chapter 48

Donatello sat on the sofa next to his father. He wore a headset, and his laptop had multiple screens open – a feed to the traffic cameras nearest to his brother's current location, a map of the city streets nearby, a page that was full of programming code awaiting input. Donatello hated being left behind while his brothers did the hard work. Every time they walked out the door, he died a little inside. But, this had to be done. They had an important mission tonight; Bugging Darren Xavier's apartment. If they could pull this off, they should be able to learn a lot more about the Pseudo-Shredder's organization. Maybe they could even find out if Francis Kreager truly was the villain masquerading as Shredder.

In the surface world above, it was a beautiful summer night. The stars were out, and the late-setting sun had left a lingering line of orange on the horizon. Leonardo took it all in, then smiled as Donatello's voice crackled in his earpiece.

"This is it. As far as I can tell, you are standing on Darren Xavier's fire escape. You guys remember how to activate the security scanner, right? If not, I can talk you through it," Donnie offered.

Leo put his hand to the window and peered into Xavier's apartment. Just as expected, not a soul was inside. "Think we're good, Don. Still wish you were here to do this yourself, though."

Donnie grinned and shook his head. Lately the pressure to get back to fighting form had been mounting. Fortunately, everyone was too polite to outright ask him to return to training and patrolling. It's a good thing too, because he couldn't, not with his leg in such terrible shape.

"First Sensei, now you. I'm doing my best, alright?" Donatello grumbled, good-naturedly. "And maybe I'm not ready for prime time, but at least I'm making new toys for you again. Now let's see if we can't pull this off."

"Roger that," Leo said as he flipped the switch on the security scanner. Donnie had designed it from an old ham radio, connected to a wand-like extension. The noise emitted by the radio would change whenever the wand was near a security-system component, like a window or door sensor, or even a motion detector. Leo slowly swept the wand around the window frame, noticing a slight variation in the radio static. "Do you hear that too, Don?" Leo asked.

Donatello relaxed his face, which had been tensed in concentration. "Yes, I heard it too. The intensity picked up at one point. Do it again more slowly, okay?"

Leo moved the device's wand across the lower ledge, where the noise seemed to have changed. "Stop!" Donnie's voice suddenly rang in his ear. "Right there! Where are you?"

"Bottom center of the frame," Leo answered, "right where we expected it to be."

"Something is there," Donnie confirmed. "Raph's turn now."

Raphael stepped forward with his oddly shaped device and aimed a megaphone-like extension at the spot that Leo had marked. He pushed a shiny, red button. It was the only button on the silly looking contraption, so it would have been hard to make a mistake. Nevertheless, the results were disappointing.

"Nothing happened," Raph reported with a frown.

"Don't be so sure," Donnie's voice crackled. "Try the scanner again, Leo."

Leo returned the wand to the bottom of the window frame. This time, the noise it generated was the same no matter where he pointed the wand. "Does that mean that we disabled the security system's window sensor?" Leo asked.

"It should," Donatello's faraway voice replied. "But only for this one window. And remember that the effects are only temporary. The sensor will return to normal in an hour or so. Oh, and remember that the rest of the system is still active, motion sensors and all. You've still got the suit, right?"

Leo smirked and rolled his eyes. The rest of the family always considered Leo himself to be a worrywart, but Donnie was certainly giving him a run for his money lately. "We remember Don, and of course we have the suit. You triple-checked all our packs before we left. Do you really think that we would've lost it between now and then?"

"No. Sorry. Just let me know if it gives you any problems," Donnie said apologetically.

Michelangelo unpacked what he had dubbed "the cloak of invisibility," which happened to be his new favorite thing in the world. He didn't care if Donnie ever managed to finish the hoverboard. This thing was ten times better. It made him feel just like one of the invisible Foot-tech ninjas that they had fought so long ago. He had so many plans for it. Sneaking up on Raph. Sneaking up on Leo. Sneaking up on Master-

"Why are you just standing there, shellhead? Put it on all ready!" Raphael barked, snapping Michelangelo out of his reverie. Michelangelo stuck his tongue out and began getting dressed. He was surprised that he had been given this task, but Leo was no good with anything electronic or technological, and Raph was still having a few problems with his injured side. Mikey was most likely to be able to get the job done and quickly escape the apartment, if needed.

The get-up was fashioned out of a modified beekeeper suit that had been encased in what Donatello called a "digital shroud." Donnie had sewn in numerous micro-cameras that could scan the room around it and then project the resulting background image onto the exterior of the shroud, making the wearer inside practically invisible. There was a slight lag, so it was necessary to move slowly. This was even truer due to the sensitive motion sensors that were placed around Darren Xavier's apartment.

The inside of the headpiece had a screen outfitted near the eyes so that its user could see what was going on around him even though his face was covered. Fortunately, Mikey was used to watching multiple televisions at once, yet another quality that made him perfectly suited to be the turtle in the shroud. Mikey finished dressing and switched the shroud on. He vanished right in front of his brothers' eyes.

Raphael whistled. "Pret-ty impressive."

"Thanks," Mikey's disembodied voice answered.

"That compliment was meant for Don," Raphael barked. "What did you do other than zip it up and flip a switch?" Raphael swatted the area that Mikey had been standing in a moment ago, but the troublemaker had already stepped away, causing Raph to stumble forward.

"Ha," taunted a voice on the other side of the fire escape. Raph began stalking toward it, only to be bonked on the top of the head by a closed fist. He swung a leg out and was rewarded with a hard thump next to him and a whining moan.

Leo had seen the suit's projected image waver as Mikey fell, and couldn't help but feel a little nervous. "Quit horsing around. This is a serious mission, and we're using sensitive equipment. Now get in there, Mikey. Slowwwwwlllly."

"Yes, master," Michelangelo mocked.

As if by magic, the window gradually began to open. Everyone tensed and waited for an alarm to sound, but nothing happened. The next chunk of time passed in complete silence. While Michelangelo worked, Leo stood on the fire escape and thought about this home's occupant.

Darren Xavier was proving to be an interesting character. Unlike the Pseudo-Shredder, Xavier lived his life out in the open, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Karai had thrown him out of the Foot over five years ago, due to the fact that he was constantly undermining her authority. Given that he had never actually threatened her, she had spared his life and he had packed up and moved to the West Coast. Karai had kept tabs on him remotely at first but had stopped doing so when years passed and nothing of interest turned up.

Karai described Darren Xavier as cunning, fierce and intelligent - a fine soldier and a top-notch strategist. It didn't bode well that the Pseudo Shredder was smart enough to join forces with an apparently near-perfect soldier like Xavier.

At this point, everyone was convinced that Francis Kreager was the Pseudo-Shredder, but finding him was proving to be practically impossible. Xavier was the best lead that they had, and the turtles hoped that all the spying, research, and hacking they were doing would reveal a way to bring down the Pseudo-Shredder's organization without resorting to outright warfare.

"How's it going?" Don eventually piped up, snapping Leo back to reality.

"Pretty good I guess," Leonardo replied. "No sign of Xavier coming home, and no noises from the security system. It's weird being right here and not knowing what Mikey is up to, though. He could be anywhere, and we'd never know it."

"Well, I promise to lock up the suit when he's done with it. I'll find someplace he'd never think to look," Donatello pledged.

"The cleaning closet?" Raphael grumped. There had to be a better joke than that. He just couldn't find it at the moment, and he didn't feel like being quiet anymore. Invisible Mikey was… unsettling.

"I found his router and I've removed the casing," Mikey's voice announced over the headset. "I've got the wiring exposed, and I'm planting the bug now."

Leo and Raphael both began pacing. Donnie might've done the same, if his leg would've let him. Raphael covered up his microphone so that he could speak to the leader in private. "Why are we so on edge about this?" he asked. "It's not like Mikey is diffusing a bomb or anything."

Leo covered his microphone too. "I don't know. I guess because it's Mikey. He gets distracted so easily. Times like this make me wish that Donnie would come out with us again."

"You can't expect that of Don," Raphael argued. "Even if he was comfortable above ground, he'd never be able to escape in time if something went wrong. And you know how he panics and freezes up."

"I know," Leo sighed. "But remember how good he used to be in these types of situations?"

Raphael nodded. "I do but being his hands while he talks into our ears is almost as good. And at least we know that he's safe and comfortable at home with Master Splinter."

"I think I've almost got it," Michelangelo's voice cut in. "Are you seeing anything yet, Don? Am I doing this right?"

Donnie had been watching his laptop intently, but he still hadn't received a signal from the bug. "Nothing yet, but it's still early," Donnie's voice crackled. "Keep troubleshooting just like we practiced, and I'll let you know when it comes online."

"Rodger Dodger," an apparently nonplussed Michelangelo replied.

Out on the fire escape, Raphael smiled as he continued his private discussion with Leo. "You know, as much as I hate to admit it, Mikey deserves more credit than we give him. Don't tell him that I said that, though."

"I won't," Leo promised. "And don't tell Donnie what I said about wishing he'd join us either. I don't want him to feel any sort of pressure from me."

"He doesn't. It's all coming from inside of him," Raphael observed. "Just like we hate Mikey being invisible, he hates not being able to see what the rest of us are up to when we're gone."

"I know. It's hard for all of us." Leo looked Raph in the eye as he removed his hand from his microphone, signaling that the conversation was over.

"I'm getting data, guys," Donnie's excited voice exclaimed. "You did it, Mikey! Awesome work. We now have access to Xavier's network!"

"Great job everyone," Leo praised. "Now Mikey just needs to find a place to set up the microphone and we'll have ears on this place as well."

Mikey looked around the room. The wireless microphone was a small, white device, only the size of a breath-mint. Ideally, Mikey needed to find something white to adhere it to, so that it would blend in. He suppressed the urge to make a humming noise, as he was trying valiantly to remain as quiet as possible. Let's see, he thought. Not the vase, since that probably gets moved around from time to time. Why does a guy like Xavier need a flower vase anyway? White lamp, but that probably gets touched a lot. White couch, but the fabric probably isn't ideal for the adhesive. Mikey looked up - there was a white-framed mirror above the couch! It was perfect. No one ever looks at the top of mirror frames, and it was right near the main seating area, so it would be close to the spot where people are most likely to be chatting.

Raph and Leo were pacing again. They didn't want to bother Mikey and have him make a mistake or move too quickly due to the distraction, but this was taking too long. Suddenly, they were both swatted simultaneously on the back of the head. Mikey let out a sinister laugh and the three of them began rolling around the fire escape in an impromptu wrestling match.

"What's that noise?" a slightly panicked Donnie gasped in their ears. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine. Turn off your headset and let us know if the microphone is working," Leo panted.

Having removed his suit's headpiece, Mikey knelt by the open window, clasped his hands in front of his mouth and called "Helllooooo."

"Yes, I heard it," Donnie explained. "So, if you're okay then what was that noise? Where you wrestling in the suit, Mikey? Because that's not good for it."

"I was not wrestling in the suit," Michelangelo declared. "I was kicking ass in it."

* * *

Leonardo and Raphael returned home to find Donatello all worked up. There was no denying that every mission that the turtles went on had the possibility to become dangerous at any time, and Donnie hated the feeling of helplessness while he waited for the others to come home. He didn't know how Splinter had done it all these years. Nervous energy built in Donatello like pressure in a shaken soda bottle, and he always felt ready to burst by the time they walked in the door. Donnie clambered to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg, and hobbled over to them just as quickly as he could.

"This is great," Donnie announced. "Spying on a living person is so much easier than attempting to find a possibly-dead guy."

Leo smiled. "From my experience, locating a possibly-dead guy is next to impossible."

Donnie looked at his brother in sudden apprehension, but there was no bitterness in Leo's tone, and his demeanor was relaxed. Donnie just nodded and offered a warm smile in return.

He'd never considered the parallels until now. Donnie, himself was believed dead for years, and if the Pseudo-Shredder truly was Francis Kreager, then he was believed dead as well. There didn't seem to be any real lessons learned from Donnie's disappearance that could be applied to Kreager's, but at least Donnie now had a taste of what his family had gone through when they were looking for him. The task of locating Kreager seemed impossible, but there was something about it that was almost...bonding - as though Donatello's failure to dig up dirt on Kreager somehow made the others feel less guilty about failing to find Don himself.

Donatello realized that he had become lost in thought. "Where's Mikey?" he suddenly asked, squinting his eyes.

"Said he had to make a stop," Raphael explained.

This was worrisome, "Did you at least take the suit from him first?" Donatello cringed.

Raph shrugged. "Said he needed it to go into some special store. Didn't feel like arguing about it."

Leonardo had been silently standing nearby while tracking an unusual movement of dust bunnies on the other side of the room. Donatello followed the leader's line of sight, then produced the key fob for a car alarm. He clicked a button and a double-beep sounded. As if by magic, Michelangelo appeared mid-creep amongst the dust bunnies, apparently heading towards Raphael's room. At the sound of the noise, he stood stock-still. It took him a moment to realize that he could see his hands splayed out awkwardly in front of him, and that everyone was staring directly at him.

"Where ya' goin?'" Raphael growled.

"Um. Nowhere," Michelangelo sputtered, suddenly very interested in his toes.

Raphael sneered menacingly "Any luck at the store? You find everything you were looking for?"

Michelangelo brightened. "I did, actually." He ran over to the kitchen. "I got us these cannolis. They're supposed to be the best in the City. There's a half dozen in the box. One for each of us, two for Donnie."

Raphael let the anger flow out of him. Whatever Mikey had been up to, he clearly hadn't had a chance to pull it off yet. And, Raphael did love a good cannoli. "I ought to get the extra one, just for putting up with your constant nonsense," Raphael reasoned.

"We all put up with Mikey's nonsense," Leo pointed out.

Rather than defending himself, Michelangelo nodded. "That's true, and Donnie needs to be fed, dude."

"I'm not so sure that's the case anymore," Donatello put in. "In case you guys haven't noticed, I'm starting to get a little pudgy. It's probably time to officially remove me from the fatten-Donnie-up plan."

Everyone looked at Donatello as though seeing him for the first time. It was true that he was looking plumper, but it was a welcome contrast from his earlier state.

"You're not _that_ pudgy," Mikey replied. "Maybe you're just preparing for a growth spurt."

"I'm not so sure about that, Mikey," Donnie considered as he took a bite of his desert. "And I don't get much exercise these days, so I really shouldn't be taking in so many calories anymore." He raised his eyeridges as the most perfect ricotta blend he had ever tasted exploded in his mouth. "I will however, postpone the new eating plan until tomorrow, because I'm definitely taking two of these."

* * *

 **As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following.**


	49. Chapter 49

Donatello twiddled his thumbs and cast a bashful glance at Sydney. The conversation up until now had been easy and comfortable, but there was a serious matter that he wanted to discuss and going about it was difficult for the turtle.

"Um, so, Sydney," he stuttered. "There's something that I… I wanted to talk to you about…. something that I can't discuss with my family."

"Well, that is what these sessions are for," Sydney pointed out. "So, what's up?"

"It's just, you know about my bad leg and my panic attacks, and how I freeze up. But given all of that, and as an unbiased party, I was wondering if… well…" Donatello continued to mumble.

Sydney smiled. "Spit It out, Donatello!"

Donatello's next words fell out in a jumble, as though the log jam inside of him had been broken. "Well, I was wondering if you thought I might be capable of standing alongside my brothers again someday?"

"Like as a full-fledged member of the team?" Sydney wondered. "Going above ground for patrols and fighting battles on a regular basis?"

"More or less," Donatello replied.

"More or less?" Sydney repeated. "What does that mean?"

"I'm... I'm not sure exactly," Donatello pondered. "It's just that lately I've been feeling this pressure to be something closer to what I was before. Nobody says it outright, but I know that my brothers would like me to accompany them on more missions. Physically, I know that I'm not there yet, I mean with the leg and all, but there's a mental hurdle too. And, it might just be the mental hurdle that's more difficult to overcome."

"That's certainly true," Sydney observed. "So, let's start with the physical stuff. You and your brothers have always been fighters. Do you think that you would be comfortable rejoining them if you aren't physically able to fight?"

Donatello sighed. "The thing is, for me, fighting was always just a way to defend myself. I was never an aggressor. I would protect my brothers if needed, but goodness knows, they can certainly take care of themselves. I would protect innocents too, whenever I could. Maybe I won't be as good at that as I was before, but I'm hardly doing much good at all when I'm stuck down here in the sewers."

Sydney smiled. "Speaking as one of the innocents that you protected, I can certainly attest that you were good at it."

"Thanks," Donatello blushed. "Even if I can't fight worth a damn, there are still plenty of ways for me to defend myself and others if I do choose to start patrolling again. I could make weapons. They wouldn't even need to be deadly - things like stun guns and pepper sprays. That would be easy for me."

"I'm sure they would," Sydney agreed. "Given how much you've been building lately you must have those things around already."

Donatello winked.

"Sounds like you have the physical stuff covered then. Unsurprisingly, that leaves us with those mental hurdles that you're up against. So, what's the biggest issue that you are facing there?" Sydney probed. "Is it your fear of freezing up in the face of violence?"

"My track record with regard to that hasn't been so great," Donatello admitted. "But, I sort of have a plan for that too. I'm hoping that I just need to get myself used to being around it again. In fact, I've been wondering if the answer might be to expose myself to more of it, at least in a controlled environment." Donatello paused. "So, to that end, I'm considering returning to ninjutsu training, or in the very least, sitting in on my brothers' training sessions."

Sydney leaned forward in interest. "Really?"

"Yes really. Why do you sound so surprised?"

Sydney gave a small chuckle. "You just seem like you've made a lot of progress, is all. Last time we spoke, you just wanted to stay hidden for the rest of your life."

"I think it's because I've been so busy," Donatello theorized. "I haven't had as much time to think, so I'm not constantly stuck in my own head. When I go to bed at night, I think about the next invention or the facts that I've been gathering. I don't have time to dwell on what happened to me. But if I tell my family that I want to rejoin them, there's no going back."

"Why not?"

"It's just that it's a way of life for us. My brothers and I were schooled in ninjutsu almost from the time that we could walk. As it stands now, my family seems to accept that I can't go back to that life. I don't know if they think that I'm too hurt, or just that I'm too scared. Either way they haven't been pushing. But if I show any sign of wanting to do it again, even if it's just sitting in on training…. I just think that it will be like a snowball rolling downhill. It will pick up speed and mass so quickly that I'll have no way of stopping it."

"Why not?" Sydney wondered aloud. "Why can't you just hit the brakes and say no? Tell them about the weapons that you're building, and that you're more comfortable going that route instead. I can't imagine your family forcing you to do anything that you don't want to. They love you too much, Don."

Don blushed. "Maybe it's more about me not being able to stop myself once I've started. Being a ninja… It's what I was raised for. What I've trained for my whole life. And, I think that I was pretty good at it. But now…." Don frowned. "There's a good chance that I'll fail. And I don't know how I would handle that. I don't know how any of the others would handle that."

"Nothing lasts forever, you know," Sydney replied. "Everyone changes. Everyone ages. There will come a time when Splinter won't practice the art anymore. Your brothers won't do it forever either. If your ending comes sooner, then so be it. I think that what you would regret most is giving up before you even tried."

"I think that you're right about that," Donatello agreed. "It just seems so daunting, which is funny because ninjutsu used to be second nature."

"So, you're feeling overwhelmed, then," Sydney observed. Donatello nodded his head in agreement. "Break it down into small steps. Tell me what comes next," Sydney urged.

Donatello sighed. "Well, my family has been helping me get back into shape. It's just basic stuff, more to make me comfortable and rehab my injuries than anything else. And, they don't know this, but I've been working out on my own as well. Trying to regain as much strength as I can."

Sydney looked at Donatello. His efforts were more obvious than he knew. While he was certainly rounder and softer than any of his brothers, wiry muscles were beginning to make themselves known. His arms, in particular, looked very similar to when she had first met him.

Donatello noticed her attention and made a little muscle. "Not too bad, right?" he said with a sly grin.

"Not bad at all," Sydney agreed.

Donatello became serious again. "The thing that I can't get past is my leg. I can't even bend my knee, so I can't use crutches or anything. I have no speed or flexibility. I can't run away if I get into trouble, and that really frightens me. I need to find a way to address that, before I commit to something that I can't easily back out of."

Sydney ran her hand over her face. She had a few thoughts about this but giving voice to them was difficult. Donatello was still very fragile, and she didn't want to do anything to hurt her friend. "Don, don't take this the wrong way, but sometimes I think that you use your leg as an excuse."

Donatello did look slightly offended, but at least he was open to conversation. "An excuse?" he parroted. "How so?"

"Your brothers say that you just shut down whenever anyone asks you about your leg. Your father has made similar comments, and you do the same thing to me. I just feel as though you're not open to all the possibilities, at least not yet. Given how inventive you are, there have to be plenty of ways for you to deal with having a bad leg, but you don't seem to ever consider them."

Donatello frowned. "What's to consider? You do realize that it's essentially locked in place, right? There's really not much that I can do about that."

"Yes, but aren't you supposed to be a technowizard? What about an exoskeleton of some sort? Or a suit? You found a way to drive a vehicle through lava. Something like that should be child's play for you."

"I'm not Iron Man, Sydney. Besides, all the suits and exoskeletons in the world won't help me bend a knee that refuses to move."

Sydney considered her next words carefully. She knew that they would sound shocking at first, but there was a seed that she wanted to plant. "If your leg will never be any good to you, have you ever considered amputating and replacing it with a high-end prosthetic? I'm sure that you could design one."

Donatello did a double take. "You think that I should cut off my leg?!"

"No," Sydney loudly exclaimed. "But I think that you could consider it, if you really want to rejoin your brothers on missions, and if it's really this hopeless hinderance that you make it out to be. What good is it doing you? Not only that, but it's obvious that it hurts you. Why live your life in pain?"

Don purposefully ignored the part about pain. His leg did hurt. It hurt a lot, but that was something that he didn't like to discuss. He'd been through far worse after all.

"It's my leg! I'm kind of attached to it - literally!" Donnie shouted.

"Look, I'm not saying that you should amputate," Sydney insisted. "I don't mean to upset you or make you mad, but the point of these sessions is to try and get you better. You're doing great so far, and it's understandable that you'd be scared to make any drastic moves at this point. I just want you to keep an open mind, see all the possibilities. No one wants to see you hurting, Don. No one wants to see you held back if you don't want to be. If there's some way to get better, you should think about taking it, no matter how drastic it may seem."

"Alright. Okay." Donatello felt himself calming down, now that the initial shock had passed. "I will try to keep an open mind and consider a broader range of possibilities."

"I'm not criticizing. It's just that if your goal is to rejoin your brothers, you should accept that it really is possible if you work hard enough, rather than admitting defeat. The Donatello that I know never gives up on anything."

"Um. Thank you. I guess maybe you're right about a lot of this. I suppose that I do kind of hide behind my injuries sometimes," Donatello confessed. "I'm sure that I could be doing more than I am right now."

"Well, healing is a long process," Sydney conceded. "And it's fine to take as much time as you need. I hope I didn't sound harsh. I just want you to realize what you are doing so that you can figure out what your true goals are and keep working towards them."

"No. I get it. Thank you, Sydney."

The two ended their session with a hug that left them both feeling rather flushed.

* * *

The turtles had a literal wall of televisions. By universal agreement, one of these TVs was now devoted solely to displaying incoming data from Darren Xavier's apartment and cell phone. Raphael and Michelangelo were playing a video game when they noticed that the Xavier - dedicated screen had sprung to life.

"Guys, guys, get in here," Raphael yelled.

Leonardo scurried out of his room and an oil-streaked Donatello limped out of the garage. The screen was displaying a text message between Xavier and a contact marked simply "F."

"Maybe the F is for Francis," Mikey guessed. He looked around to take in the appreciative looks on his family's faces, but their eyes were fixed on the screen. "As in Francis Kreager," he elaborated, disappointed that no one had paid him any attention.

Having already reached this conclusion, the others ignored Michelangelo and watched as words appeared on the display as the text message between the two parties was typed out.

 _I'm waylaid in Tokyo. I need you to handle a transaction for me. Be at Warehouse 3 tonight at 10._

"Well at least it's not warehouse 83 or something," Michelangelo commented. "Maybe that means these guys operations aren't really so big after all."

"He's waylaid in Tokyo," Leo countered. "Unless he's traveling for pleasure, I don't think that could mean anything good for us."

"You guys are such bummers," Michelangelo complained.

The turtles watched as the text message exchange continued. Darren Xavier confirmed that he could make the appointment at Warehouse 3. When the words ceased scrolling across the screen, Leo activated his leader mode. "Well, we have to assume that "F" is Francis Kreager, right? and I think that we also need to assume that this is another weapons deal."

No one disagreed. "Seems reasonable," Raphael confirmed.

"It is best to be cautious," Splinter advised.

"Well," Leo continued. "We need to know where this warehouse is, and we know that Xavier is headed there tonight. Donnie - Can you track his location using his phone?"

"I can, but if he turns it off we're screwed," Donnie somewhat pessimistically replied.

"We'd better get over there, then," Raphael urged. "Ten o'clock is still a few hours away, but he could turn his phone off at any time, and who knows what stops he'll make along the way."

Don spoke up, completely without thinking. It was almost reflexive. He simply couldn't stop himself "Don't go!" he blurted, then hesitated, as the gravity of what he had just said struck him like a rolling boulder. "Don't go without me," he soon clarified. "I just can't stand another night of waiting down here for you guys...I can't stand it." Donatello looked apologetically at his father, who gave him a somber but loving grin in return.

Leo hesitated, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. He wanted his brother to do this, but he also wanted to protect him from the evils of the world. "Are you sure, Don? Are you sure you're ready to go up there?"

Donnie looked like he was beginning to regret volunteering to begin with, but he felt stronger and more certain that he outwardly appeared. He was trusting that instinct that made him speak up moments ago. "No, I'm ready. I promise, I'm not gonna get you guys into trouble. I'll stay in the Battle Shell, but I just can't... I can't just stay down here anymore. I can't. I can't take it anymore."

Leo looked to his Sensei, who gave a subtle nod. "Okay, then," Leo decided. He then turned his head in the direction of the garage. "Let's hit the streets." Raphael gave Donnie a firm slap on the shell as they headed for the garage.

Donatello had managed to modify the Battle Shell so that he was able to drive it, even with his inflexible leg sticking out in front of him. Despite his handicap, it only made sense for him to drive, so that his brothers could hop out of the van as needed. He felt like his heart was in his throat as he slipped behind the wheel. It only got worse as he began driving, but he stuck to his guns. Donatello headed towards Xavier's apartment. Raphael watched the cell phone GPS signal, which showed Xavier still at home by the time that the turtles arrived.

When Xavier finally left, Leo, Raph, and Mikey hopped out of the van. They followed their prey through the streets, sticking to alleys, rooftops, and shadows while Donatello slowly circled around them. Even though it was peaceful, the city felt like a warzone to Donnie. He was certain that an explosion was imminent, or some unexpected and apocalyptic event was about to strike. He was worried that he'd miss an important communication over the headsets due to the thundering pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

Despite Donatello's nerves, the operation went off without a hitch. The brothers followed Xavier until he hopped into a subway car. Raphael let out a string of expletives, until Leo reminded him that Donnie could track Xavier's cell, at least until he turned it off. Donatello pulled the Battle Shell around and picked his brothers up, feeling oddly victorious despite the fact that all he had done was drive around the block, while barely managing to somehow keep his head together.

The turtles followed Xavier's cell phone signal and watched as their enemy emerged from the subway once more. He then hopped into one of the infamous black sedans, which was parked in a public garage, suspiciously close to Auman Chemical. He drove it to a storage facility located in the outskirts of the city.

The turtles watched from the Battle Shell as the transaction played out. Having previously hacked Xavier's cell, Donatello activated the microphone, so that the turtles could listen in. It became apparent that "Warehouse 3" was simply one of the storage lockers in the complex. Xavier was lead to the locker and confirmed that the items "F" had purchased were present. He then paid off the sellers and headed back into the City.

The turtles stayed behind, intent on breaking into the locker. The Battle Shell had been carefully packed with all their espionage supplies, which was fortunate because they needed most of them. The storage locker was reinforced with security measures that had clearly been placed there by the Pseudo-Shredder's crew, rather than by the storage facility itself.

At first, Donatello assisted from the Battle Shell while Raphael attempted to break through layers of security and deactivate alarms. The longer it took, the more Donnie realized how silly it was. He was safer with his brothers than alone, especially given that the Battle Shell could be driven remotely. Eventually, he hobbled off and joined his family, secure in the knowledge that Raph would toss him over a shoulder and run him back to safety at the first hint of trouble.

Leo, Raph and Mikey greeted Donatello as though they hadn't seen him in months, but due to the sensitive nature of what they were doing, there was little time to celebrate. Although it took some time, Raphael and Donatello together managed to break through the locker's various protection systems while Leonardo and Michelangelo watched over them.

What they found was no surprise - It was weapons, and a lot of them. The turtles only opened a few of the boxes, as they were afraid of inadvertently triggering some sort of security alert. They made the difficult decision to leave this place almost exactly as they found it, as they did not want to alert the enemy to their presence. They did however, leave a few small items behind. Donatello placed GPS trackers on several of the grenade launchers, and Michelangelo placed another wireless microphone in an inconspicuous spot inside the locking mechanism of the interior door. If something happened here. They would be sure to know about it.

* * *

 **Don't worry. No one is amputating Donnie's leg. In fact, he'll be getting some good news in the next chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	50. Chapter 50

A few weeks passed, and Michelangelo made the sacrifice of getting out of bed early on a Saturday morning. Like a lion waiting to pounce, he set up shop near the dojo. Sure enough, Donatello soon came limping out. He looked sweaty and winded, wiping his face with a towel slung across his shoulders. Michelangelo wasted no time in bouncing up and pursuing him as he meandered towards the shower.

"Mornin' Donnie," Michelangelo greeted.

Donatello glanced over his shoulder, but for once he didn't flinch. "Hey, Mikey. What has you up and about this time of day?"

"Just working on a theory," Mikey answered. "Sensei said that you are considering returning to training?"

"Considering it, yeah… maybe," Donatello hesitantly replied. His mind was willing, but his body wasn't exactly cooperating. Putting the primary issue of his bad leg aside, almost every inch of him had sustained some level of damage. After two weeks of tentative test runs, his best case scenario didn't seem all that good. Despite setting only modest goals, he still found himself discouraged. But, he tried not to let it show. Donatello wiped his forehead with the towel, while considering how close he was to giving this whole ruse up before it even began.

Donnie sighed softly and Michelangelo shuffled his feet almost shyly. "The thing is," Mikey finally said, "I did something after your surgery, and I've been waiting for you to come to this decision, because it's a sort of a trigger for something else to happen."

Donatello peaked out from under the towel and narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Huh?"

Just then, a strange noise arose from outside the lair. Michelangelo perked up immediately. Leonardo poked his head out from the dojo, appearing more curious than alarmed. Raphael had been working the punching bag, and immediately grit his teeth and began pounding as hard as he could.

Donatello was perplexed about what the noise and disparate reactions could signal. He didn't have to wait long for an answer, as Michelangelo scrambled to the lair door and opened it.

In the doorway stood a smiling, middle-aged Renet. Michelangelo immediately threw his arms around her. "Renet, I haven't seen you in forever! So much has happened!"

"I know, I know, I was giving you space," Renet explained. She hugged Mikey back and then shook him off when Raphael started yelling at her.

"Who knew you had enough good sense to stay away?!" Raphael snapped. "But now that you're here, I've got a few bones to pick with you, lady."

Apparently middle-aged Renet didn't have the fearful respect of Raphael that the younger version of her exercised, because she was bold enough to advance to within inches of the hothead. "Well, I'll just bet you do, so why don't you get it all out of your system now?" she challenged.

Raphael was momentarily taken aback by the response, but he soon commenced with a tirade anyway. "You knew!" he shouted. "You obviously knew that Donnie was alive! Why didn't you do anything about it?! Why didn't you go back and change what needed to be changed?! You could have saved him from all of this!"

"Everything is as it should be," Renet said patiently. "Donatello is right over there, isn't he?" Renet pointed to where Donnie was silently watching the scene unfold.

"Everything is as it should be?!" Raph roared. "Just look at him! He barely survived, and now he's crippled for life. I mean, look at all those scars! Not to mention his damn leg!"

"Hey!" Donatello yelped. While he was clearly offended, there was also a fire burning in his eyes that the others didn't often see.

"Calm down, Raph," Leo ordered. "Let her explain."

Renet nodded her thanks to Leonardo. "My point was, that while simpler minds are often too blind to notice, some things do happen for a reason."

Raphael's nostrils flared and he huffed at the perceived insult. Renet had been looking right at him when she said the part about "simple minds." Michelangelo exacerbated matters by pointing at Raphael and laughing.

Renet turned to address the group at large. "It's true that I knew what happened to Donatello, but my hands were tied. I had to let it play it out."

"The least you could've done is told us," Raphael reasoned.

"To what end?" Renet asked. "Would you have really wanted to know ahead of time?"

"No!" Donatello blurted.

"Well, you could've at least told the rest of us that Don was alive and that we'd see him again," Raphael clarified. "You saw Mikey on the regular when Don was missing, and you never said a word about him coming back someday. I may be a meathead but I'm pretty sure that meets the definition of lying by omission."

"Nice phrasing," Donatello complimented.

"Um, thanks?" Raphael replied, surprised that Don sounded more amused than angry. In fact, Raphael suddenly realized that he was the only one who was mad. Raphael looked to Michelangelo, whose face was a picture of happiness. "What about you, Shell for Brains? You don't have anything to say to your little girlfriend here?"

"Not in particular," Mikey answered. "You see, Raphie-boy, time travel is a tricky business. Things need to play out a certain way. Even though we've all suffered a lot, that suffering has taught us how strong we are, and we've learned never to take one another for granted."

"I… couldn't have said it better myself," Splinter complimented.

"I knew that I kept you around for more than just killing bugs and lifting heavy things," Renet joked.

"You… keep me around?" Michelangelo gawked.

Now it was Raphael's turn to point and laugh. "You mean to tell me that you still don't know if you're dating her or not?!"

"What did we just go over?" Michelangelo said. "We're not meant to know everything!"

"Still, I think you'd at least know _that_!" Raphael jeered.

"It's not all that relevant, really," Michelangelo shot back.

"What?!" Raph exclaimed. "When Don was gone you couldn't get enough of her, now you're playing it cool?"

"Oh Raph, I'm more complex than you give me credit for," Michelangelo declared with a measure of condescension.

"Somehow I doubt that," Raphael argued.

"She's been testing you, hasn't she?" Donatello cautiously asked. "Obviously I wasn't around, but from the stories you told, I thought that maybe-"

Leo finished his brother's sentence. "She's recruiting you! Why didn't I see it before?!"

Raphael was too dumbstruck to speak. If Splinter was surprised, it didn't show. Renet only looked amused.

"In a way," Michelangelo confirmed. "It's not official, but I think maybe when I'm older…." The turtle trailed off as he looked to the timestress, hoping for a hint that he would never receive.

The corners of Renet's mouth lifted ever-so-slightly, but she said nothing to anyone.

Raphael finally spoke. "You two deserve each other. You're both infuriating."

"Infuriating or not, it seems that I've got a leg up on you," Michelangelo teased. He then turned to Don. "Like I was saying earlier, you deciding to train was a trigger for something. I knew Renet would come back eventually, and well… there are certain rules and all, but some of them can be bent - if I've been understanding my lessons correctly, that is."

Michelangelo had put air quotes around the word "lessons," but his demeanor grew more serious as he continued. "When we fixed your back, I saved a piece of your shell. Medicine is different in the future. It's much more advanced." Michelangelo hesitated a moment and looked to Renet as if to see if she would stop him. "If I'm not mistaken, we can bring the shell to the doctors there. They can study it, and learn enough about our bone structure and genetics to fix your leg… I mean, if you want. I know you might not have been ready before now, but I always knew that there would come a time when you would want the chance to get better… like completely better. And if you're training, or wanting to train..."

Donatello stood completely still. His normally impressive and lightening-fast mind couldn't process any of this. His face was unreadable.

"Oh great, you broke him," Raphael jeered.

"Nuh-uh," Mikey countered, sounding more like his normal self. "He just needs a minute."

"Enough of this," Renet decided. "I need to talk to Donatello in private." The Timestress pushed Donatello through the door to his lab, as if she owned the place.

Donatello didn't know what hit him. One minute he was attempting to exercise, and then this happened. It didn't help matters that Renet immediately began talking with essentially no lead-in. Donatello had barely settled into a chair when she began. To make matters worse, she was speaking as though she knew all the deep secrets that he carried in his heart - even those he tried to hide.

"Life is crazy. Isn't it?," she started. "When you were younger, I'm sure that you couldn't imagine a life outside of these sewers. From what Mikey has told me, you were practically prisoners here when you were growing up. Then you had a brief taste of freedom. You saw other planets, other dimensions, the past, the future, places that you might be actually be accepted for who you are, rather than seen as a freak. Then, just when your life was finally beginning to blossom, you become a real prisoner, and that's all you were for four years. I know how much you're struggling now, to figure out where you belong and who you want to be. It's hard to imagine a life where you might feel whole again, isn't it?"

Donnie was flabbergasted. He didn't want to talk about any of that, but he couldn't deny it either. He had to do or say something in response, so he nodded sadly.

Renet put a hand on his forearm. "This next part is kind of breaking the rules, so you can't tell anyone this, okay?"

"Do I want to know, myself?" Donnie asked, reluctantly.

Renet smiled. "I promise that you do."

Donatello took a deep breath. "Okay then, my lips are sealed," he pledged.

"Think of everything that you have been through and overcome," Renet instructed. "You've seen the very worst that life has to offer and you've triumphed over all of it."

"Triumph might be putting it a bit strongly, don't you think?" Donnie asked as he indicated his modest surroundings.

"I'm not so much talking about right now. I'm talking about the Donnie that I know in the future."

"You and I still know each other in the future?" Donatello wondered. Was that why she knew exactly how he was feeling right now?

"I know you in many times, and I do know you in your future, Donatello. I can't tell you everything about it, and I can't guarantee that it will come to fruition, but the fact that I'm standing here talking to you is testament to the fact that it will, unless something happens to change it."

"So things will be okay? Is that what you're here to tell me?"

"Donatello, you will be more than okay. The Donnie that I know is a hero in so many ways, and an inspiration to people all over this galaxy. People know your story. They know all that you overcame, and you've still gone on to be known as one of the greatest inventors in history. Your life - it's incredible, Don, and you inspire others to be everything that they can be. You give the most amazing speeches-"

"I give speeches?" the shy turtle interrupted in surprise.

"Incredible speeches. You're the most popular Professor around, and you're such a softie that you get suckered into delivering a solid half-dozen or so commencement addresses a year."

"I'm a professor? I live a public life, and I teach?"

"Most semesters you teach a class or two. Other years you're too busy. You're kind of hard to lock down; you've got so much else going on."

"Like… like what?" Donatello wondered.

"Well I can't tell you everything now, can I?" Renet winked. "I'm bending the rules as it is."

"If you say so," Donnie smirked.

"The takeaway is that something absolutely terrible happened, but it made you into one of the most amazing people that I know. That's why I couldn't stop any of it, or 'save you,' as Raph put it. You were always meant to survive and save yourself. And your strength in getting through all of that will remind others of their own strength."

Donatello couldn't help but smile, and enjoy the warmth kindling inside of him at this picture of the future. it sounded too good to be true, but it was even more far-fetched to believe that Renet came all this way for nothing.

"I know it's a bit of a struggle for you right now, but things will get better," she continued. "You just have to keep fighting, and know that anything, _anything,_ is possible. And Donnie, you are happy. I promise you that you are so happy. Living through these lows makes you appreciate the highs so much more. You put it far more eloquently in your speeches, but that's the gist anyway."

"You're choosing to tell me this now for a reason. Aren't you?" Donatello guessed.

"My timing is never accidental," Renet acknowledged.

"So Mikey's offer…"

Renet stood up. "As far as I know, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be younger then. Feel free to tell me to pound sand if you want to, but I don't think that you will."

Renet pet Donnie's shoulder and strode out of the room.


	51. Chapter 51

**I hope that you enjoy this chapter. The next one will probably be the last, but I'm not sure when it will be posted. Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites and follows. They have all meant a lot to me!**

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind. Saturday night, Donatello agreed to the surgery. This launched a debate about who should accompany him to the future, and who should stay behind in the present.

Leonardo wanted everyone to go, but Splinter felt that the hospital would prefer not to have a crowd hanging around. Raphael hated the future, and he was still holding a grudge against Renet, so he elected to stay with Splinter. In the end, Leonardo decided to stay home as well, so that Michelangelo and Donatello could enjoy a little one-on-one bonding time. To make up for temporarily splitting apart, they all agreed to take a little vacation at the farmhouse afterwards, while Donatello recovered.

Sunday morning, teenage Renet arrived to bring Don and Mikey to the hospital. Michelangelo enjoyed his brother's reaction when they rematerialized in Renet's time. Donatello hadn't left 21st century New York in almost five years, and was feeling a little skittish. Michelangelo tossed a sturdy arm around Donnie's shoulders and led him to the window. Futuristic cars, planes and busses zoomed around. All of this had become commonplace to Michelangelo, and he chattered on about the different sights while Donatello soaked it all in. Then they visited the doctor.

Watching Donatello during that first doctor's appointment was truly a sight to behold. Michelangelo knew how apprehensive Donnie was, but when the doctor began talking, it was like a switch was flipped. Mikey had no idea how Donnie understood the medical jargon that the doctor was spewing, but his brother managed to sound like an expert himself.

Michelangelo sat back in his chair while the two yammered on about bone mineral density and metabolism, vascular complications, and connective tissue grafting. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he supposed it didn't matter, since Donnie clearly had a handle on things, and could always provide an interpretation afterwards. Michelangelo gave the doctor his piece of Donnie's shell, and the doctor promised to be ready to operate in six months.

Of course, six months can pass in the blink of an eye when you're friends with a timestress. All it took was a simple jump. In fact, the jump was so simple that Renet allowed Mikey to control the leap on his own for the first time.

Michelangelo would never forget the look of abject terror on Donatello's face when he raised the time scepter. The time jump was rough, but successful. It took Donatello a few seconds to release his death-grip on his traveling companions. After that, Renet went home, and Donnie checked into the hospital with Mikey in tow.

The two turtles sat in the waiting area, and finally had a few moments to decompress and talk.

"So, Donnie," Mikey started.

"Hmmm?" Donnie responded, his head still lost in the clouds.

"Can you explain what this surgery is all about?" Michelangelo requested. "All that medical talk sailed straight over my head."

Donatello raised an eye ridge and leaned forward. "Well, basically they're going to do a total knee replacement, as well as resetting all the improperly healed fractures in my leg. For spots where the bone is too far gone, they're going to use grafts. It's a good thing you saved that sample of my shell, because the doctors spent the past six months extracting my genetic sequence from it, then bioengineering the donor bone and tissues that they'll be using today. While they have me sedated, they're also going to go in arthroscopically and clean up some connective tissue damage in my wrists and shoulders."

"That's… slightly more understandable," Michelangelo praised. "I guess I should ask how you feel about this?"

"Uh… optimistic," Donnie answered.

"Do you think it will get you back to 100%, then?" Mikey asked, hesitantly.

Donnie rubbed his chin. "Well, 95% anyway… eventually."

"That's good right?" Mikey begged.

Donatello's face brightened. "It's great! I really didn't have any hope before. But now, this just seems so doable. Thanks for giving me the kick in the shell I needed, and for setting all of this up."

Michelangelo blushed beneath his green skin. "Well, you know I'm always in your corner, Don."

At that, Donnie tossed his arms around Michelangelo. "I do know that. I do. I hope you know I'm in yours too, future time-master!"

"Of course I do," Michelangelo gushed.

* * *

Donnie woke up after surgery to find Michelangelo in bed with him. He opened his eyes and boom! - Mikey, right in his face.

"How ya feelin, bro?" Mikey asked as soon as Donnie's eyes began to flutter.

"Uh, fine? Surprised?"

"By what? Me?" Michelangelo bubbled. "I just didn't want you to wake up and wonder where you were. I know you still get confused sometimes, and I figured with the drugs… But anyway, you feel okay?"

"Yeah," Donnie confirmed, having taken a moment to gather himself and take stock. "My leg just feels… heavy and sort of numb. It doesn't hurt at all. Did the surgery go smoothly?"

"From what I can gather it did," Michelangelo answered. "There was a lot of medical talk that you would understand better than me, but my takeaway was that it couldn't have gone better."

"Great!" Donnie looked down at his leg. He was wearing a johnny, but from what he could tell it was bound from hip to mid-foot in a bright white cast, only his two green toes were sticking out. They looked pretty swollen, and he didn't dare wiggle them. Despite the swelling, there was no pain at all. His mind was completely clear, even though he had just woken up. He had expected to be groggy, but he felt more rested than he had in years.

Donnie was monitored overnight, just in case his unusual history and anatomy led to any unexpected side effects. The next morning, he was issued a bottle of top-notch painkillers and a pair of crutches and sent on his way. He was instructed to take it easy, and come back a month later for a follow up.

Michelangelo noticed that his brother was immediately a pro on the crutches. Donnie may claim that his ninja days were behind him, but his instincts and reflexes were clearly just as sharp as ever. The old straight-splint had caused him to move at a snail's pace, but now he sped around like a true athlete. Michelangelo reveled in seeing him like that, like just another guy with a broken leg.

"So what's next?" Donnie wondered. "Do we ask Renet to take us home?"

Michelangelo broke into a grin. "We could, or we could play a bit of hookie. I guess it depends on how you are feeling."

"Good enough for Leo-level shenanigans, but not yet ready for Raph-level shenanigans," Donatello answered.

Michelangelo snapped his fingers. "I know just the place!"

The two spent the afternoon cheering on a the underdogs at a martial arts tournament. Michelangelo rented a private box so that Donatello could stretch out and keep his leg elevated. They ordered too much food and had a lot of laughs. Even though it was the future, it felt just like old times.

* * *

Vacation - Now there was a luxury that Donatello figured he would never enjoy again. Fate had smiled upon them all, and Indian summer had hit soon after they arrived. Better yet, things had been relatively calm in New York. There were no new leads to pursue, no imminent threats, no fires to put out.

Donnie sat on the dock, languidly swishing a hand back and forth in the water, and watching his family splash around. It was mid September, and Donatello had been free for almost exactly six months. As the sun warmed his shoulders and the water lapped around him, he couldn't help but think about that desperate turtle that had leaped into a cold Long Island river six months before.

He had scars. He couldn't deny that, but he'd come further mentally and physically than he ever thought possible. Even though his leg was secured in a massive cast, it felt better than it had in four years. Mentally, despite the worst of odds, he'd held onto the most important parts of himself. If anything, he was more empathetic than he had been before, more tender with his loved ones, and gentler in his thoughts and actions.

Most importantly, that turtle that had jumped into the river hadn't known if his family was alive, or if he would ever find his way home to them. Donnie closed his eyes in supreme happiness as the boisterous laughter of his brothers wafted to the dock where he was reclining with his father. His green, calloused fingers glided rhythmically through the water, the very water his family was playing in. Happiness like he had never known washed over him. The scars didn't matter. The future didn't either. Only this moment did.

Later in the week, Leo built a campfire and they spent the night under the stars. Splinter regaled them with stories of ancient Japan, which somehow, through a series of extreme non-sequiturs, led to Donatello describing the origins of the Phoenician alphabet. Donatello was oblivious to the fact that no one cared about the subject matter. His family was just happy to hear his comfortable, relaxed rambling.

What Donatello's family didn't tell him was that they used to do things like this when they were mourning him. When the memories and ghosts of him swirling around the Lair got to be too much, they would come out to the farm. They would build fires and stare dolefully into them, each of them caught up and isolated in their own painful worlds. They rarely spoke during those long, dark nights, and when they did it was never like this. To hear Donatello's random musings now was like something out of a dream. He hadn't spoken like this since he had returned. His love of linguistics was one of those little details that had almost been forgotten during his absence. He had loved many things, after all - too many to remember.

It was as though when he had gone to the future and allowed those strange doctors to cut him open, they had somehow lanced the last of his deep wounds, drained the venom from him. Against all odds, he was the Donatello of their youths again - plain old, familiar, and utterly remarkable Donnie.

* * *

Upon their return from vacation, Donatello was a well-behaved turtle. He spent a week either in bed or on the sofa with his leg elevated by a pile of pillows. He watched movies and chatted with his family, read books, called old friends, and worked on small projects that could be contained on his lap or a side table. He laughed frequently, and assured everyone that he felt no pain at all, despite the intense surgery.

Two weeks post-surgery, his bed-rest restrictions were lifted. He crutched around the Lair to work out his arm and back muscles. He lifted weights with Raph and began stretching exercises with Leo. Mikey took him for walks around the sewer. The ninja team broke into another one of Pseudo-Shredder's weapons warehouses while Donatello ran surveillance from the van.

A month after surgery, all four turtles returned to the future to see Donnie's cast removed. In the past, he'd barely allowed them to catch a glimpse of his leg, so it was strange to see the damaged limb openly on display. It was skinnier than the rest of Donatello, and badly scarred, but the bone was straight. Best of all, Donatello was able to bend his knee easily in all directions. They returned from the future with a list of physical therapy exercises, a new brace, and hopeful hearts.

Don still needed to use crutches for a few weeks. For the rest of his life, he would have to keep the knee braced, albeit as he aged and continued to heal, the braces would become smaller and more discrete. The doctors warned him that he would always have a limp, but it would get better with time. After all, most things do get better with time.

Donatello returned to training. He began tentatively, then picked up in intensity. He moved from exercises, to katas, to more rigorous practices, then full-fledged sparring sessions. His brother's refused to fight him at first, even in half-speed practice. Donatello insisted that he had to get used to being hit again. They were doing him a disservice by going too easy on him. It was Splinter himself who stepped in to face Donatello during those first mock battles. Eventually, his sons followed his lead.

Donatello was rusty. He froze up quite often at first. He hit the mats again and again. Every time, he got back up. He was the worst ninja of any of them, but he worked as hard as he could, letting his engineering projects fall by the wayside, leaving maintenance to Raph, and reconnaissance to Leo, April and Karai.

That reconnaissance kept everyone busy. Donatello joined his brothers and friends as they continued digging deeper and deeper into Pseudo-Shredder's operations. Fighting was rarely necessary, and when it was, Donatello seldom joined in. When he did, his brothers watched him like a hawk. If fighting was like riding a bike, he still had his training wheels on.

* * *

Six months after the surgery, the team decided that they knew everything that they needed to know about the enemy. The time to go on the offensive had arrived. A date was set. They were going to join forces with the Foot to dismantle the Pseudo-Shredder's operation from the ground-up.

On the eve of the battle, Donatello stood in front of the dojo's full-length mirror and examined himself from head to toe. He looked a lot like the Donnie of old. His muscle mass and definition was back to his pre-capture conditions. Even his bad leg had finally caught up with the rest of him. While he was still a bit shorter than his brothers, it turned out that his Mikey-induced chubbiness had served as the precursor to a growth spurt. He'd grown two inches since coming home, apparently making up for several lost years of growth.

His shell was so much better now. It had weak spots that were still healing, but it was no longer jagged or cracked. The fissures had closed, and the spacers were removed. The screw holes were almost completely closed up. The outlines where the fractures had been were still visible, but they were only scars and superficial ruts now. The shape of his shell was correct. Nothing was ingrown, and he had a full range of motion.

He had scars on more than just his shell. They were all over his body, some big some small. He knew that there were unseen marks on his soul as well, but he was getting better.

Donnie pulled pads onto his elbows and his left knee, just like his brothers wore. His right leg still needed plenty of extra strength and support. On that, he wore a self designed brace that covered most of his leg. He had built in some hidden features, and if all went well it was going to be his secret weapon, turning a weakness into a strength. He had also designed an armored shell to protect his back. He wasn't in pain anymore, but his shell would take years to completely heal, and in the meantime it would need some extra protection. The armor was made of tightly woven kevlar padding beneath a layer of lightweight stainless steel. Donnie had designed a fastening system to keep it snapped in place over his tender shell. The exterior design matched his leg brace.

Donnie wound brown leather around his wrists. His brothers had always worn a thin layer, almost like bracelets. Donnie extended his further, to cover the manacle scars. Now that his shell and leg were better, they were the most unsightly scars on his body, and no one needed the constant reminder. He did the same thing around his ankles and feet, more for cosmetic purposes than anything. The wrappings partially covered the brace on his leg, and softened the affect.

For the first time in years, Donnie pulled on his belt and holster. He slid his bo into place as easily as ever. The motion was as natural as breathing, and comforting in its familiarity. The years slipped away as the wood slid smoothly into the leather.

Finally, Donnie looked down at the purple mask in his hands. His family had been trying to convince him to wear it, but he hadn't been ready until now. He knew that Splinter or Leo would have loved to have tied it on, just for the sake of ceremony, but it was something that Donnie felt needed to be done in private. He needed to make this decision for himself, not for anyone else. Donnie ran a finger across the material, then resolutely tied it around his eyes. He smiled at his reflection.

Donatello had always been a combination of seemingly disparate pieces. He was both a man and a turtle. He was a pacifist, and yet he was a warrior. He was a modern day scientist and engineer, and yet he adhered to an ancient code of conduct and honor. He lived a life hidden in the sewers, that was nevertheless unbound by the constraints of any one world or dimension. He had the body of a monster borne from nightmares, and a soul sensitive enough to share the pain of all God's creatures.

Looking in the mirror, he sensed that duality within him now more than ever. He was part flesh and blood, part leather and steel. Those parts of him that had been hurt the worst were now covered with the vestments of battle. He was back.


	52. Chapter 52

**Here it is - the last chapter. I'd like to take this final opportunity to thank everyone who has supported this story over the past year. It has been a pleasure sharing it with all of you. I hope that you have enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

* * *

Donatello could sense his brothers' confusion as they filed into the dojo for their pre-mission meeting. They were surprised to see him there, fully decked-out and prepared for battle. Donnie bowed in greeting and was promptly tackled to the ground and buried in a pile of turtles, each of which seemed insistent upon giving him a noogie.

Leo clapped his arm over Donnie's armored back. "What the shell, Don?!"

"Does this mean that you're back? Like, _back_ back?" Mikey gasped.

"I knew it, Brainiac! I knew ya still had that fighting spirit!" Raph cheered.

They'd all practiced with him, worked out with him, helped him rehabilitate. While he had designed his new gear in secret, Donatello didn't think that this would be _that much_ of a surprise. Perhaps it was finally seeing him in the mask again.

Donnie wriggled his way out of the pile. "Come on guys! No way I'm letting you take Pseudo-Shredder down without me!"

* * *

Donatello had been home for year. He and his family had spent most of that year researching, hacking and spying. Dozens of warehouses, storage facilities, and bases of operation had been mapped and inventoried. The turtles and their allies now knew everything there was to know about their enemies.

Thanks to April and Donnie's skill at breaking into email accounts and text message records, they even had comprehensive psychological profiles of each key member of Pseudo-Shredder's organization. They knew why their enemies had done what they did, and why Donatello had been so essential to their plans.

Pseudo-Shredder, otherwise known as Francis Kreager, had been born on a Hawaiian naval base forty-two years ago. His father was an American soldier and his mother was native to Japan. He spent his childhood moving from country to country, which explained his unusual accent.

After graduating at the top of his college class, he began his professional life as a hotshot corporate accountant. He was a rising star, and eventually he got greedy. Kreager used his position to exploit vulnerable companies, siphoning off a little bit of money here and there when he knew it wouldn't be missed. In time, he built up enough of a nest egg to start his own accounting firm, and that's when his empire really began to expand.

With money came power, and soon Kreager was able to recruit executives that worked for his larger clients to assist him in his embezzlement schemes. The more money and power he earned, the more he seemed to crave. It was only fitting that he ended up working for the Foot. His job was simply to hide their income and evade taxes. But when Oroku Saki was exiled off-planet, the temptation was too much to ignore. Kreager saw the strife and discord with in the Foot and knew there was a power vacuum that he could step into.

To do this, he had to make people believe that he was the one and true, rightful Shredder, not just some money-grubbing, power-hungry accountant. He faked his death so that he could resurrect himself and take on the persona of a demon that had run the Foot for centuries.

Kreager paid off Darren Xavier to steal artifacts from the Foot Tower vault, and he began stockpiling weapons that he would need to oust Karai. Kreager leaned heavily on Xavier to guide him in the ways of the Foot Clan, and to recruit new talent from within it. In time he learned that more than simply troops, weapons, and power would be necessary if he was to defeat Karai. She had many loyal soldiers and allies. Kreager had to eliminate as many of them as he could in one fell swoop. He believed that the best way to do that was to find a way to obtain or manufacture chemical weapons.

In his previous life as a simple accountant, Kreager would have been unable to purchase chemicals in bulk without appearing wildly suspicious, but the corrupt location manager of New York's branch of Auman Chemical was able to do just that.

Kreager's minion would siphon off a pallet of chemicals here, several jars of acid there, until a stockpile had been amassed. He also offered up the hidden level of his building. The sub-basement had been used for secret testing that Auman had conducted decades before, and it now sat abandoned. This hidden floor at Auman was a key meeting spot for Kreager's group, and eventually became home to Donatello's prison.

Kreager used his connections in other industries as well. After Peterman Transit went bankrupt, he kept tabs on his friends there, and they provided him with resources whenever they were able to, in exchange for his protection or other types of kickbacks.

Kreager was beginning to grow bold. Everything was going so well for him. But then, Xavier told him about the one thing that the Foot had never been able to get past - the turtles. They had been the downfall of numerous Shredders before him. And, now they were friendly with Karai. The mutants liked the way she had reformed the Foot Clan and restored its honor. These nuisance turtles were going to protect her. Kreager knew that he had to put a stop to it. According to Xavier, the turtles were seemingly impossible to defeat. Rather than bothering to try, Kreager decided to tear them apart from within.

Xavier had told his boss that losing a member of the family would break the turtles. And by then, Kreager knew that Donatello was the genius of the team. Kreager's group had been unable to manufacture the chemical weapons that they felt they needed to defeat Karai's loyalists and take hold of the Foot. It was clear that a scientific prodigy of Donatello's caliber would be able to do just that. So, Donnie was made the target.

Kreager and his group had always known that Donatello would be difficult to control. This is why the other turtles were kept alive - as an insurance policy. If Kreager's subordinates couldn't find a way to make Donnie assist with their schemes, Kreager assumed that he could capture and torture one of the other mutants, then manipulate the genius turtle to do his bidding by offering to spare his loved one from any further pain. At one time, Kreager had even planned to capture more than one turtle on the same day that they apprehended Donatello, but Xavier had warned him that this was too risky. The turtles were known for their teamwork and devotion to one another, and Xavier feared that it would be impossible to contain more than one of them for long.

Knowing that Donatello would never agree to work for him willingly, Kreager began acquiring pharmaceuticals. He called upon a former client who owed him a favor. Different chemical formulations that were in development were declared a failure and written off, but really, they made their way into Kreager's stockpile. Those that seemed like promising mind-control agents then made their way into Donatello's veins.

After years of failure in controlling Donatello, and unable to fall back on his 'Plan B' of capturing another turtle, Kreager hatched his last, desperate scheme. He instructed his subordinates to 'break Don out,' to make him believe that his family was dead, and that he was in the hands of the FBI. Kreager had grown to hate Donatello's altruistic nature, but he hoped that there was still a way to use it to his advantage.

The plan was to convince Donnie that he was working for the good guys, and that he had no family to go home to. If he had nothing left, he would have little choice other than to stay with the 'FBI.' A mutant turtle wasn't safe on the streets, after all.

Being the good guy that he was, Donatello would want to help his new friends. He would invent and build for them. He might even develop new chemical weapons to protect the interests of his country. All those creations and weapons would then be given directly to Kreager for use against Karai.

But, Donatello had figured it out within 24-hours. He'd broken out of Auman, where Kreager's allies had hidden him. Kreager's men had been looking for him ever since. This was both terrifying and amusing to Donatello. It was amusing that they still wanted to capture him, given that they couldn't break him the first time. It was frightening because that meant that perhaps they simply wanted to kill him. Regardless, Kreager knew by now that he likely would never find a way to recapture and control Donatello, which is why he had spent months in Tokyo attempting to recruit a new scientist or engineer. Fortunately, he hadn't succeeded in this venture.

Now, Kreager was back in New York. He was meeting with his top men tonight. Or at least, he planned to. Little did he know, it would be all over for him by the morning. The Foot had moved in on Kreager's warehouses and his weapon and chemical stockpiles. They were waiting to raid the homes of each and every one of his team-members. The moment they received Karai's signal, the Foot would strike all targets at once.

It was Karai and the turtles' job to infiltrate the meeting place where Kreager and his top men would be gathering. The turtles had undertaken harder missions, but none of them seemed as personal as this one, and none were as fraught with emotion.

The meeting place was a simple brownstone in the outskirts of the city. There was a highly secured basement where Kreager's team would be gathering. The basement also contained a panic room, and that that's where Kreager would head as soon as the trouble went down. The turtles needed to defeat all the lower ranking fighters, then find a way to gain access to this panic room and extract Kreager and whomever else had holed up in there with him. Then, they would hand things over to Karai.

* * *

Leonardo finished his pre-battle briefing and led his team to the garage. Splinter followed behind, but he did not pass the threshold. He hadn't accompanied his sons on many missions lately, but this was a big one. The turtles had been unsure whether he would be making an exception.

"Are you coming, Sensei?" Leonardo asked.

"No," Splinter answered, solemnly. "Not tonight."

Raphael had been loading equipment, but now he turned to face his father. "Really? I'd have thought you'd have wanted to see this. After all, this guy hurt all of us just about as bad as you can hurt someone."

"True, but tonight is also about you boys becoming a team of four once again. I would only be a hindrance to that."

Splinter hugged each of his sons, offering the longest and strongest to Donatello. "I know that you will be victorious," the old rat firmly declared, eyes still closed.

Splinter folded his hands behind his back and addressed his students. "In some ways, a Sensei's job and a father's job are one in the same. I have taught you everything that I can. Now, it is time for me to stay behind, to watch as you spread your wings and fly. Take your lessons with you and know that I am so very proud of you all. I may be an old rat, too old for fighting perhaps, but I still have good years ahead of me. Go out into the world together now. But, know that I will always be here waiting when you come home."

Michelangelo offered his father a salute before hopping into the van. Raphael and Leonardo gave earnest nods as they climbed in behind him. Donatello was last, his eyes shining as he waved. "We'll be back," he promised in a barely audible whisper.

"I know you will, my sons," Splinter answered as he watched the van drive off.

The ride to Kreager's location was somber and serious. Leo went over last-minute plans and instructions over the phone with Karai while Raph drove and Mikey checked equipment. Donnie simply watched the world roll by through the window.

It was early springtime again, and a chill hung in the air. The streets were barren, late-night fog rising from the manholes. The deciduous trees that lined the sidewalks were still dormant. But within the seemingly lifeless branches, within each flower box and planter, within even fertile cracks of dirt on the sidewalk, life was just waiting for its chance to spring forth. Donatello could feel it all around him, almost intoxicating in its beauty.

When they arrived at their destination, the turtles grabbed their gear. Donnie was just about to get out of the Battle Shell when he felt a gentle tug at his wrist.

"Don," Leo whispered. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Of course, I am," Donatello reassured.

Leonardo's eyes were still dark and troubled, almost pleading. "All it would take is one bullet, one blade or projectile getting past our defenses," he whispered.

Donatello knew that the burden of leadership was as heavy on Leonardo now as it had ever been. He put a hand on Leo's shoulder and squeezed. "Hey, that's always been true - for all of us, not just me. Heck, it's true for every living creature, but we take our chances, right?"

Leonardo frowned. He couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone again, but he knew that couldn't hide from life, either. Kreager was a menace - a threat to the turtles and the city itself. He needed to be dealt with, however risky that may be.

Uneasy in the silence, Donnie leaned in to give Leo a hug. "Don't worry," he whispered before pulling away. "It'll be fine."

"Remember, you may be the leader, but we walk beside you, not behind you." Mikey reminded.

Raphael rolled his eyes. He wanted to make fun of Mikey for being so cheesy, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he put his hand out. "We're in this together until the bitter end," Raph declared.

Donatello put his hand on top of Raphael's. "And whatever lies beyond," Donnie added, feeling uncharacteristically spiritual as he reflected upon his pleasant dream about death, back when he was imprisoned. Even if the worst should happen, he knew that his family would always find each other in the afterlife.

As if sensing Donatello's thoughts, or perhaps remembering that shared dream himself, Leonardo broke into a smile. Leo silently put his hand over Don's, then Michelangelo pressed his own hand over Leo's. The four exchanged heartfelt looks before breaking apart, unsaid 'I love yous' hanging in the air between them.

* * *

The turtles met up with Karai. Only the five of them were going into the brownstone. The rest of the Foot would be busy securing Kreager's other assets and locations, each of Karai's generals heading up their own simultaneous missions. Truthfully, the turtles had wanted it like this - a small, intimate battle rather than a melee.

Karai sent out the signal that would start her troops' advancement at dozens of different locations. She and the turtles then marched resolutely towards Kreager's bunker.

Opening the door was Raphael's job. The main doorway was equipped with a highly sophisticated lock and an extremely expensive security system. Those things didn't matter though. This wasn't a stealth mission; it was a show of force. With one swift movement, Raphael kicked the heavy door down as though it was made of mere particle board.

At this point, alarms should have begun to blare, but Donatello had managed to disable the security system remotely prior to the raid. The last thing anyone needed was the police paying them a visit. Nevertheless, Kreager's cronies would have heard the door being kicked down. In fact, Leo had wanted the arrival to be heard by the brownstone's occupants. He hoped that Kreager's men would split into two or more groups when the threat became clear.

"Honey, I'm home!" Mikey yelled, just in case Raph hadn't been noisy enough.

Karai and the turtles knew that Kreager would be locking himself into the basement's panic room as soon as he heard them arrive. From pre-battle reconnaissance, the turtles knew that a dozen lower-ranking men were in the building along with Xavier and Kreager. Just as Leo had hoped, only six men rushed the building's entryway. The others had undoubtedly fallen back to protect the panic room and call for backup. That backup would never arrive, thanks to diligent preparation and the efforts of Karai's army.

The first of Kreager's troops appeared in the entryway, each of them brandishing a gun. The leading man's eyes widened at the sight before him - four mutant turtles and the rightful leader of the Foot Clan. Leo pulled his katanas out of their sheaths. He leveled one directly in front of him and raised the other behind him, crouching low like a tiger as he uttered a warning. "Allow us to pass or face the consequences. Our fight is with your boss, not you."

In response, the man cocked his gun. It took Michelangelo only a split second to send a shuriken sailing straight through the barrel. Taking the cue, Raphael hopscotched over Leo's shoulders and landed on top of the assailant. The two began to wrestle. Three more of Kreager's men sprang forward, skillfully avoiding the two opponents rolling around near the top of the stairs.

Michelangelo whipped around Raphael, batting another gun away with his nunchuck. The orange-banded turtle then had his legs knocked out from under him by Raph's foe, who was attempting to grab hold of the gun that his friend had dropped. Raphael managed to hold him back while Michelangelo regained his footing. A shot rang out from nearby.

Michelangelo looked up in shock, only to find that Donatello was holding a self-designed taser against the ribs of another of Kreager's troops. The man had convulsively clamped down on the trigger that he had been about to pull when the electricity from Don's taser began coursing through him. Donatello had foreseen this and used his bo staff to lift the man's arm so that the bullet sailed high over everyone's heads. Donnie caught Mikey staring, and gave him a quick wink.

"Watch your back!" Karai yelled. She and Leo had headed to the top of the stairs to fend off the two men who had lagged behind. They had already taken one down when the shot had gone off. Leonardo had turned to see what was happening, momentarily distracted by fear for his brothers. He could see that they were safe, so Karai's warning must have been meant for Leo himself. He swiveled around in time to see that one of Kreager's bodyguards was aiming a gun at him.

Leonardo launched himself into the air. He sliced the gun in two while on the upswing, then flipped at the height of his jump. As he came back down, he kicked his opponent in the back, sending him in Michelangelo's direction. One of Michelangelo's nunchucks met with the man's temple and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Karai stepped in front of Leo to do battle with another combatant. Leo scanned the entryway, only to find that Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo had things well in hand. Donnie was snapping electronic handcuffs around the wrists of the fighter that Raphael had just subdued. Once Donnie had them in place, he lifted the fallen soldier to his feet and marched him towards the stairs. Raphael then grabbed the handcuffed enemy below the shoulders and heaved him at Karai's current opponent. Kreager's two men landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the basement stairs.

"Raph," Donatello hissed. "You promised that you would try not to hurt them." Donnie then ducked as Michelangelo tossed another unconscious body into the pile.

"I know what we said, but I want to keep these guys in our sights," Raph explained as he threw another protesting villain down the stairs.

Donatello flung out his bo and effortlessly tripped a knife-wielding guard that had been charging Mikey. He twirled his staff in the air, and brought it low again, sending the knife skittering across the floor. Leo swooped in and clapped handcuffs around the disarmed fighter.

Donnie had crossed the room and was helping one of his enemies to his feet. "Better walk down the stairs before my brothers toss you down them," he advised in an apologetic tone. Leo followed Donnie's lead, and forced his own fallen foe into the basement.

All six defeated fighters now wore handcuffs. Once they were all huddled together at the base of the stairs, Donatello flipped a switch on a small device he had been carrying in his belt. The handcuffs buzzed with electricity, effectively paralyzing their wearers. Once the men fell still, the buzzing stopped.

"Now," Don said with an almost sympathetic look. "I know it's hard but try not to struggle. I designed those handcuffs you are all wearing to detect motion. If you just sit still, you'll be fine. But, if you move too much, they'll shock you again."

Raphael didn't quite approve of Donatello's empathetic leanings in this particular scenario, particularly given that this very group had never hesitated to run voltage through Donnie when he was in their grasps. Raph leaned in, menacingly. "You'd better be good little psychopaths, because if I hear any noise out here I'm going to find a much less merciful way to keep you quiet."

Leonardo, Michelangelo and Karai had ventured deeper into the basement. They were now standing in front of a locked door. They knew that the meeting room was behind it, and the panic room as well. Not counting the ones that were already subdued, there were six men left plus Xavier and Kreager.

Leo didn't want anyone to knock this door down. He assumed that whomever did would immediately be faced with at least six guns. Instead, Donatello electronically picked the lock. Donnie recognized it as the same model that had been used to lock his cage, so it gave him a certain air of satisfaction when it popped open. Donatello stepped aside to huddle behind the wall with his brothers and used his bo to swing open the door.

Leonardo nodded, and the team of five jumped into the meeting room together. They knew that this fight would be harder than the first, as the most skilled combatants would have stayed back to protect their boss. Donnie immediately recognized several of his former guards. He had no time to relay this information to the others, as he was immediately busy dodging bullets.

It was a funny thing that happened. While Donatello knew that he should have been scared, he felt steadier on his feet then he ever had before. It was as though the years of physical and mental oppression had somehow resulted in a store of energy that he was now able to call upon.

He felt as though he were everywhere at once, as though he could see the room from above, from below, and from each corner within it. Each of his senses fed him a steady stream of information. Sounds both faraway and nearby, microorganisms beneath his feet, dust particles swirling in the air - he sensed all of it. He felt and heard and saw all of it, as though 100 different versions of him were there with him in that moment, whispering in his ear. He felt invulnerable, like his skin was far thicker than it really was, as though he was stronger, faster, and smarter than he ever had been, or could ever hope to be. Somehow, he knew exactly where each bullet was headed, and exactly where he needed to go.

"Leo!" Don yelled. The leader had charged to the center of the room, purposefully drawing the majority of gunfire toward himself. He was swinging his swords at lightning speed, deflecting everything and everyone that had come his way so far, while Raphael, Karai, and Michelangelo had begun attempting to systematically take down opponents. As skilled as Leonardo was, he wouldn't last for very long at the center of a hail of bullets.

Donatello used his bo like a pole-vault, leaping over the head of one of his enemies. Somersaulting at the top of his jump, he managed to bat his adversary away with a quick swipe to the stomach. Donnie's opponent was sent flying into the man next to him.

Donatello landed his jump in the center of the circle beside Leonardo, who now had a streak of blood on his shoulder from where a bullet had grazed him. Donnie grabbed his brother and ducked low, feeling a projectile bounce off his armored shell - a bullet that Donnie was certain would have penetrated Leo's chest if he hadn't intervened.

Donnie and Leo locked eyes for a moment. "Thanks," Leo huffed, before backflipping into the gap that Donatello had just opened. One of the fallen combatants was just about to regain his feet. Leo kicked him over again, and the man swiftly drew a blade from a sheath. Donnie turned away, knowing that Leo had things under control again. Instead Donnie flung himself in the direction that the shot had been fired from. Disabling all the guns was the primary goal right now.

Quickly surveying the scene, Donatello saw only one opponent who still possessed a gun and was not otherwise engaged in battle. It appeared that this foe, who Donnie recognized as one of his former guards, was about to take aim at the back of Karai's head. Donatello issued a Michelangelo-worthy war cry to gain the man's attention, then he executed a series of backflips, feeling bullets whiz uselessly past him. All Karai's senses tingled, and she spun to look behind her.

The former guard pistol-whipped Karai across the cheek just as Donnie closed in on them. She stepped back to blunt the blow, then landed a lotus kick against his ribs in retaliation. "All yours," she said to Donnie as she sidestepped away to assist Raphael, who was currently locked in a losing two-on-one battle.

Donatello landed his final backflip and quickly flashed Karai a smile of thanks before he spun himself in a graceful circle. He brought his bo forward and smacked it against his enemy's wrist. The gun sailed into the air, landing near Michelangelo. Mikey used one hand to keep his own opponent at bay. He simultaneously twisted himself around and drove a dagger into the gun's firing mechanism, rendering it completely useless. Distracted by tracking the fate of the gun, Donatello let his own defenses momentarily slip. His opponent landed a hammer kick to his bad knee. Rather than whimpering, Donnie locked eyes with his enemy and smiled impishly.

"Oh Hikaru, this feels just like old times, doesn't it?" Donnie teased, using the name that he had randomly assigned this particular guard during his imprisonment.

Undeterred, 'Hikaru' grabbed Donatello by the throat. Before Hikaru could get a good grip, Donnie brought a knee up between them and kicked his opponent away. Hikaru stumbled backwards and attempted to swipe Donnie's bad leg out from under him.

Donatello planted the leg firmly, allowing a hidden steel rod within the brace to lock itself into place. "Again with that?" he panted. He then used the powerful muscles in his good leg to spring forward, while extending his bad leg in front of him and connecting it with Hikaru's chest. Donatello's foot hit with the strength of a battering ram, knocking the wind out of his former guard, and likely breaking a few ribs as well.

Donatello slapped handcuffs around Hikaru's wrists, then flung the defeated warrior over his shoulders and carried him to the corner. "You guys wanted me for my smarts, remember? Did you really think that I would have left my leg vulnerable, rather than turning it into a weapon?" Donnie asked as he unceremoniously dumped his fallen foe onto the floor. He activated the electricity and Hikaru was rendered mute before he could answer.

"I see that we're starting a new pile," Raphael commented as he dumped someone on top of Hikaru.

"Well, you know how Leo is about housekeeping," Michelangelo snarked as he appeared to toss a third man over the other two.

Across the room, Karai and Leonardo fought Kreager's three remaining bodyguards, each of which had been relieved of their firearms by now. Raphael went to join them and even-out the numbers. Michelangelo busied himself collecting weapons that had been scattered around the room. Donatello handcuffed the newest additions to the pile, giving them the same lecture about suppressing the urge to struggle.

"Got another one for you," Leo panted, dropping a body before running back into battle. Donnie rubbed between his eyes. "I'm not going over this a third time," he said as he clicked yet another set of handcuffs into place. "Your friends here can fill you in."

Donatello crossed the room, ducking to avoid an errant shuriken. He knocked on the panic room door. "Hello in there. You guys coming out, or will we have the pleasure of dragging you out?" he asked in a mocking tone.

An expletive could be heard over the room's intercom.

"Such language!" Michelangelo hissed. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Okay, then," Donatello sighed. "We'll do this the hard way."

Donatello got to work on breaking into the room while his companions finished off the remaining two fighters. Donnie's task took far longer - almost an hour of creative re-wiring. It would've taken anyone else days to complete the job, but Donnie had spent weeks studying the room's schematics, and knew exactly what needed to be done. The others passed the time by patching up various cuts and scratches.

Finally, Donatello almost had it. He looked to Karai. "Are we ready for this?" he asked.

"Ready whenever you are," Karai promised, coming to stand next to Donatello. By previous agreement, Karai and Donnie were the only ones who would enter the panic room at first. They had certainly earned that right.

Donatello caught his friend's eye and nodded. He crossed two wires and the door hissed open.

Xavier was fast, but Karai was faster. A hail of bullets streamed out of the doorway. Karai raised a shield that deflected the first volley. She extended her index finger and connected it with a yellow button. Whips of electric current burst from the front of the shield. Xavier was thrown backwards, and the little power that Donnie had left running to the panic room cut out.

Karai lunged forward and grabbed the barrel of Xavier's gun, wresting it from his hand. "Dishonorable fool!" she hissed.

Xavier regained control of his limbs enough to back further into the room. Karai advanced with the shield that Donatello had specially-designed for this mission pressed to her traitorous former general's ribs. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable. She backed him almost into a corner, then reactivated the shield's electric whips. Xavier dodged them, then fled from the panic room. Karai chased Xavier straight into Leonardo's waiting arms.

Donatello saw that Xavier had been trapped in a headlock. The moment for Donnie to act was now. He had been wearing safety glasses while rewiring the panic room. Rather than taking them off, he flipped a switch, causing the lenses to go opaque. He then tossed a smoke bomb into the darkened room and watched it fill with purple mist.

Donatello's brothers looked on as he stoically stepped into the room, tentacles of mist drifting out of the open doorway. When Donnie came back out, he was dragging a struggling Kreager along with him. Donnie ripped his glasses off so that he could look Kreager in the eyes. Kreager was dressed in simple street clothes. Without the fake Shredder armor, he looked smaller than the demon who had been haunting Donnie's nightmares.

Donatello didn't have a speech prepared. It was a good thing too, because he found himself almost muted by the anger that flowed through him at the sight of his tormentor. "You," Donnie growled, tightening his grasp around Kreager's collar.

All the turtles were watching this as though it were a spectator sport, waiting to see how things played out. Raphael examined Donatello and found that Donnie's face betrayed nothing. Donnie turned and looked Raphael in the eye. Raph saw a hardness there that looked foreign on Donatello but was also comforting somehow. There was no sign that Donnie would break down. He was composed, firm, and cold as ice.

Donatello shook his head, as if attempting to dismiss this rage that felt so foreign in his veins. He let go of Kreager, pushing him back and away. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Don asked in a low, menacing tone. "You're done now," he continued. "We've beaten you. Your whole empire, all of it, has fallen tonight." Don stepped closer again. Kreager stepped back, bumping into Raphael, who clamped his arms around the devil like a vice.

"Tell me, was it worth it?" Donatello continued. "You destroyed yourself, and who knows how many other people! You almost destroyed me!"

Kreager still didn't speak.

"Was it worth it?!" Donatello roared.

Kreager wriggled in Raphael's grasp, then he finally spoke. "Some men are satisfied with simple things - simple lives, simple pursuits. Some of us strive for more - for greatness. I've never been satisfied with simple. So, if you're asking me if I regret reaching for more, then my answer is no."

Donatello didn't shout this time. His voice remained slightly lower than normal. "Funny. All I've ever wanted was a simple life." Donnie closed his eyes and shook his head, when he spoke again, his voice almost broke. "I pity you."

At that, Kreager finally showed a little of the violent aggression that Donatello had become so familiar with. He spat at the genius, though Donnie managed to dodge it. "Don't you pity me, freak!" Kreager hollered.

Raphael couldn't take the physical contact with this psychopath anymore. He threw Kreager to the ground. "Don't you ever spit at my brother!" he yelled. He grasped a sai and plunged it into the floor right next to Kreager's temple. "He's a hundred times better than you!" Raph screamed. "All of us freaks are! And, Don may be the merciful type, but I'm not. I'm gonna kill ya for what you've done to us!"

Raphael readied his other sai, looking for all the world like he was going to murder Kreager right in front of them. "No!" Leonardo hollered. "Don't stoop to his level, Raph!"

Kreager saw the red-banded turtle hesitate, doubt clearly flickering in his eyes. He took the split-second opportunity to roll away, grabbing Raph's discarded weapon in the process. Brandishing the sai in front of him, Kreager rose to his feet. He stabbed wildly as he backed himself towards the spot where Karai and Leo were holding Xavier.

Donatello stepped forward and swung his bo like a baseball bat, an action that was more rage-based than ninja-like. Despite its questionable nature, the move was effective. The bo-staff caught the wannabe across the chest and knocked him off his feet. Wasting no time, Donnie stepped forward and placed a foot on Kreager's chest, pinning him down. Simultaneously, he twirled the bo in his hand and brought the end down to rest lightly against his enemy's Adam's apple. "Don't you try anything like that again," Donnie threatened.

Raphael yanked his sai back out of Kreager's trembling hand. Michelangelo then applied a strip of duct tape over Kreager's mouth. "I think we've heard enough out of you, Frannie," Michelangelo announced. He gave a finishing slap to the tape on Kreager's lips. "And, spitting is a nasty habit. That's gross. Keep in mind that this is coming from a guy that lives in the sewer. You're gross, Frannie."

The rest of the turtles chuckled. Michelangelo's ability to lighten the mood in the heaviest of moments was very much appreciated.

"And what do you have to say?" Karai asked Xavier after silence fell in the room once more. "I forgave your sins against me. I let you walk free, and this is how you repay me? By plotting my downfall with some… some… accountant? Someone who knows nothing about the code of the Foot Clan?" Karai turned to address Kreager as well. "Do neither of you have any honor?"

"Think we all know the answer to that question," Raph jeered.

"Honor," Xavier sneered through curled lips. "So important to you, this vague sense of honor. But what of loyalty? You say I have no honor, but I would have laid my life down for your father. Any of the Foot would have done that. We never questioned him. But then you come in, changing everything, expecting us to just bend to your will. You've changed us so much that we don't even recognize ourselves."

"Us?" Karai laughed. "There is no us, Xavier. Make no mistake of that. You are not fit to call yourself a member of the Foot Clan - _my_ Foot Clan."

"You think you're so much better than me," Xavier scoffed. "But you show no loyalty to your father. You do not honor him."

"And you should be very thankful of that," Karai replied. "For my father would have demanded that I slit your throat by now."

Karai had heard enough. She motioned for Michelangelo to tape Xavier's mouth as well. He did so with gusto.

Karai approached Kreager, who Raph and Leo had forced into a kneeling position. The two stood on either side of him, each with a hand pressing forcefully down on his shoulder. "And, what to do with you?" Karai asked her would-be successor.

She reached to Kreager's neck and pulled out an object on a chain - her father's pendant. "Thief!" she hissed. "A mere imposter striving to be the Shredder, striving to steal my throne. But, when you finally meet me face-to-face, there is no fight in you at all. You didn't land a single blow tonight. You hid behind your men, behind the walls of your panic room." She leaned to within inches of his face. "Pathetic."

Karai knelt in front of her vanquished foe. From her belt, she pulled a gun. Unknown to the others, she had grabbed it from the stack of discards that Michelangelo had collected. The turtles were shocked. Karai hated guns as much as them. Still, they trusted her enough to see where this was going.

Karai caressed the gun against Kreager's cheek. "An honorless weapon for an honorless man," she declared. "Skilled martial artists such as those that surround you take a lifetime developing their talents. Yet, lazy cowards looking for shortcuts can take us down in an instant with the mere pull of a trigger. It's despicable. Xavier should have told you that. But, I suppose he doesn't care, and I suppose you wouldn't have bothered to listen. Men like you never do."

Karai cocked the gun. Leo and Raph shuddered, but they only clenched Kreager's shoulders tighter as he began to struggle more, making desperate noises that weren't discernible through the tape.

Donatello's blood ran cold. All that he could think of was what this devil had done to him. Despite everything that Donnie had gone through, even when things were at their absolute worst, he'd clung to those pieces of himself that he had deemed the most valuable, those things that made him much more that the freak that they accused him of being - his loving heart, his brilliant mind, his empathy, his mercy.

"Mercy!" Donatello cried. The anger he'd been grappling with since he pulled Kreager from the panic room flowed out of him all at once and was replaced with desperation. He didn't want blood on his hands. He didn't want any deaths on his account – not even that of his worst enemy. "Mercy! Show him mercy! Show him the mercy that he never showed me," Donnie begged.

Karai lowered the gun to the floor and pulled the trigger. The pendant exploded into a million pieces. Karai lifted her gaze to glare at Kreager. "My father used that trinket to hide himself from the world, to hide his thoughts even from me. You used it to hide my brilliant friend from his family. Yet after everything that you did to him, he still begs for your worthless life."

Karai swung to glare at Xavier. "That is honor."

* * *

The turtles left Karai to clean up the mess. None of them bothered to ask what she planned to do with Kreager, Xavier, or the other vile scum they had recruited to their team. She promised that she had ways of ensuring that they would never threaten anyone again. The turtles trusted her implicitly and knew that they'd be happier not knowing the specifics.

It was a beautiful night, and before heading home, they decided to take a little detour. They sent a message to Splinter, April and Casey to let them know of the victory, then they stole a few well-deserved moments for themselves. They parked the Battle Shell near the bank of a river and found a spot that was concealed by the reeds, but just big enough for the four of them. Giddy with victory, they laid on their backs and took some time to savor the night air and do a little stargazing.

Donnie thought about his first night of freedom - how he had done something similar in the junkyard. Back then he was all alone, unsure of what the future held, and doubtful that he could ever fully heal. He had come so far since then.

"How's it feel?" Raphael asked.

"It feels pretty darned good," Donnie confirmed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to remember everything about this moment. "How do you guys feel?"

"Free," was Leo's simple reply.

"Like justice was finally served," Raph answered.

"Hungry," Mikey said, mischievously.

Donnie looked up at the stars and thought about some plans that he'd been making but hadn't discussed with anyone. "You know," he sighed. "I had been thinking that it would be nice to take a journey with each of you, to sort of get to know each other again. Leo, I was thinking we could go visit Usagi. I know you stayed close to home while I was gone. And Raph, I thought that you and I could build our own Planet Racer from scratch. And Mikey, I was going to take you up on the bro-trip to New Jersey, but maybe in the future, where we could walk freely again."

"I did promise to swallow my pride and take you to Jersey," Mikey recalled.

"I do miss Usagi, but honestly, all of that sounds nice," Leo said.

"I agree," Donnie conceded. "And what's the point of getting reacquainted one-on-one when the truth is, everything is so much better when all four of us are together? I'm nothing without you guys... _all_ of you guys. Recovery is an inherently selfish process, but I do realize that the chains that were binding me were holding all of you back as well. Those chains are broken now. We can go anywhere, do anything."

* * *

Several weeks later, after the last of everyone's bumps and bruises had healed, the turtles held a small party with their closest friends. It was a combination of a victory party, and a very belated welcome home party for Donatello. It also served as a vacation planning session.

Michelangelo had drawn pictures of each potential adventure that awaited and stuck them on a bulletin board. All three of Donnie's proposed trips with his brothers were included, as well as some that they had all thought up together. The highlight of the evening was when Donnie turned his purple mask around for use as a blindfold. He was handed the dart that would determine some small but important part of his long future.

Someone spun him around unnecessarily. Given the joyful whooping noise that accompanied the motion, it had to be Michelangelo. Someone else clapped him hard on the shell to hold him steady and set him straight, that had to be Raphael.

"Let her fly, Donnie," Leonardo commanded, his rich, authoritarian voice conveying the smile that undoubtedly lit up his face.

Donnie briefly stopped to cherish the moment. While the blindfold had rendered him temporarily sightless, it made his other senses stronger. He was struck by the sound of laughter, the feeling of a hand on his back, the smell of good food, and the warmth of the love that surrounded him.

Life sometimes has a funny way of evening itself out. After all, one cannot truly appreciate anything sweet until they've tasted the bitter as well. Donnie knew that he was capable of stretching this moment out forever. He could keep it for the rest of his days, calling upon it in times of greatest need.

Donatello reared back and gave the dart a good heave, strength flowing through his body just as much as when he was younger. The dart left his fingers and made a graceful arc, and while Donnie couldn't see which way it was headed, he was certain that it didn't make any difference where it ultimately landed. His future was with his family, and that was the only thing that mattered. He'd finally made his way back home.


End file.
